


Watch Me Burn

by jinglejanglemorning



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Awkward Romance, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Cage Fights, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime, Explicit Language, F/M, Frequent explicit language, Haruno Sakura is So Done, Haruno Sakura-centric, Maybe not badass but at least competent Haruno Sakura, One-sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Itachi, Organized Crime, Part I consistent characterization, Past Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglejanglemorning/pseuds/jinglejanglemorning
Summary: Sakura Haruno is out of her depth. Heartbroken and in debt, she accepts the dangerous offer of an underground fight at a notorious gangland hangout, where she catches the unwelcome attention of the Akatsuki. A rare night out brings her into contact with the mysterious Gaara, who has dangerous secrets of his own. AU, Crime/Gangs
Relationships: Gaara/Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Itachi
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. Offer

She was pretty, pink-haired and a former prized fighter. She’d also overslept, her money worries torturing her long into the night so she was running late for work. This was unusual for Sakura, who was well-organised and ran her own business. She rushed round her apartment, dressing as usual for her day of teaching martial arts to the local community and coaching the pros who trained at her gym. She was interrupted by her cell phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, she saw it was Sasuke Uchiha. _So_ not welcome. Sakura could think of much better ways to spend her morning than talking to her ex. He was no doubt being chauffeur driven to his private college someway across town, while Sakura worked a sixty-hour week to make food and rent.

‘Sasuke?’ she answered angrily. She hoped to convey as much of her annoyance at him and bitterness from their failed relationship as possible into her tone of voice.  
‘Hey, Sakura,’ he said, ‘You're a bit of a hotshot, aren’t you? Reckon you could score me an in for Saturday's fight? I'd love to take Karin. She's never been to the Cave before, can you imagine?’  
Actually, Sakura could imagine there were a lot of things Sasuke's current girlfriend hadn't done before…like an honest day's work.  
‘No can do, Sasuke. Sorry. You know I’m not involved with the Cave,’ she said firmly. Her heart sank every time he called. Part of her wanted to give into his ridiculous requests, to humour his every whim and take care of him. Even though it had been months since they'd broken up, it still hurt inside whenever he called her, or whenever she thought of him with another woman.  
‘But Sakura?’ he pleaded, as if he hoped it would melt her heart. A few weeks ago it would have worked, but Sakura steadied her resolve. She determined to get over him. She hung up, annoyed he was wasting her time. That was why she had a new rule. No more rich guys. Or at least, she thought wryly, eying the crumbling wallpaper in her apartment, no more spoilt rich guys.

It wasn’t just Sasuke stressing her out. Sakura sighed as she pulled off the lot, ignoring the rattling from her engine. Her car was on its last legs and the mechanic’s bill would take her into the red. The dojo wasn’t doing well. She was behind on the rent and she had electric to pay, plus the hefty insurance fees and taxes that seemed to be constantly increasing. She’d lost a couple of the big names who she used to train, the fighters had defected to other gyms, or retired from pro fighting, like she had. It was a precarious game. Despite groaning shelves of trophies in her office, she was making most of her money these days teaching kids’ classes.

After she’d unlocked and switched the lights on, Sakura took a few minutes to stretch. It was barely dawn, and she wouldn’t have any clients for another hour or so. The injury that had forced her to retire was playing up, but she worked herself hard, subconsciously avoiding her office where she would be forced to face the piles of paperwork, unpaid bills and bounced checks.

Waiting for her clients to arrive for their morning training sessions, Sakura checked a few spreadsheets. Membership was down again from last month. There were a few repairs that needed doing – that window had been cracked for a week now – and a new tax bill had landed in her inbox. She was beginning to feel like she couldn’t do it all on her own any more.

She glanced at the empty desk next to hers, still as messy as the day he’d left. Over a year ago now. How times changed. She eyed the trophies gathering dust on the shelf, the grinning framed photographs, all the little touches that reminded her of her best friend. She missed him so much.

Sakura checked the changing rooms. It was after seven and still nobody had turned up. Sighing, she opened her office door again. The phone was ringing. No caller ID. She answered hesitantly, hoping it wasn’t her bank manager. She’d been dodging his calls for weeks.

‘Miss Haruno?’ a smooth male voice spoke down the line.  
‘Who’s asking?’ she replied warily.  
‘I have a small proposition for you,’ the caller ignored her question, ‘I understand you’re experiencing some financial hardship?’  
‘Who told you that?’  
‘Ah, so you _are_ in difficulty, then?’ the man smirked, ‘I wonder if I could make you an offer?’  
‘What offer? Who am I speaking to?’ Sakura demanded.  
‘What would you say to coming out of retirement,’ he continued, ‘A top-billed fight? They’ve been clamouring for you at the Cave.’  
‘I don’t work in the underground business. I’m a professional,’ Sakura said stiffly.  
‘And how’s that working out for you? Still can’t afford to fix that window, can you?’   
‘How did you - ?’ Sakura gasped, before stopping herself. How could they know about that window unless they were keeping tabs on her? She faltered for a few seconds, and the caller offered her a sum of money. Sakura’s eyes widened.  
‘I will call you back in two hours. I expect your answer then.’ The smug-sounding bastard disconnected. 

Heart beating fast, she dropped the handset on her desk. The amount he’d offered her was life-changing, certainly. She would be able to pay off all her debts, fix that window, and even replace her car. But fighting at the Cave? She knew about it of course, everyone did, even the police – not that they could do anything about it. Sakura disagreed with it on principle. It was a well-known criminal hangout. Gangs met there to pit their fighters against each other, to show off their clout. Huge sums of money passed through the venue in an evening – drugs, money laundering, human trafficking. Fighters were bought and sold like cattle. No bet was too high, no blow was too low. The fights were bloody, lawless and occasionally ended in death.

It was a playground for the rich and unscrupulous, and apparently Sasuke Uchiha thought it was an ideal location to take his new girlfriend on a date. It wasn’t a romantic place - drugs barons, gangsters and arms dealers bet on the fights, bought and sold fighters to show off their wealth and might. The outcome of fights at the Cave had a real effect on gangland politics. The city was rife with gangs, Sakura knew that. The police turned a blind eye – and a hand-out here and there helped keep them quiet. 

Sakura knew what was going on. She knew where the fighters she used to train had defected to. They’d been bought out one by one by the gangs to fight at the Cave. It was underground, serious and dangerous business and she wanted nothing to do with it. It was also a huge amount of money she’d just been offered. Sakura buried her head in her hands. Her eyes fell on the empty desk again. Since her best friend and business partner had disappeared a year ago, Sakura had been struggling. Naruto would have known what to do about the situation, but she could hardly ask his advice. He’d left no forwarding address, no phone number and no explanation. Her money troubles weren’t the only thing that kept her up at night worrying.

Sakura didn’t really have anyone else she could rely on. Sasuke was a no-go. She had no family to speak of, and since she’d dropped out of high school to become a pro fighter, she didn’t have any friends, really. The only person she could think of was the guy who rented the apartment opposite hers. Deidara was her friend, sort of. He used to fight on the pro circuits – and at the Cave – but now he went to art school, determined to make a name out of his curious exploding sculptures.

She called him up, gave him the bare bones account of the offer and moaned about how stressed and tired she was. Deidara laughed that she barely had a life outside work. She had no choice in the matter, he insisted; he was dragging her out to a bar in the evening and there was nothing she could do to stop him.  
‘My treat,’ Deidara smirked, ‘Besides, you _really_ need to get out. How long has it been?’  
As Sakura cut the call she shook her head in amusement. She ignored his slight jibe about her love life, figuring she could punch him for it later. She could probably beat Deidara in a fight, now that he spent all of his time studying for school rather than training. Since starting college, Deidara had developed an active social life and it seemed Sakura was going to be dragged into it.

Normally, she didn't do bars. The alcoholic drinks were expensive and full of sugar; the late nights left her tired and messed with her schedule; and the people who spent their time there annoyed her. Sakura got enough unwanted male attention as it was from Sasuke, she didn't need to encourage it. However, Deidara was right, since she’d given up fighting professionally, she didn’t ever do anything for herself. It was always work, work, work with an occasional break to complain about money or Sasuke. Even when she’d won a fight, or trained a winner, she didn’t allow herself a break or a day off. No wonder people called her boring.

Maybe that was why when that smug-voiced bastard from earlier called her back, she accepted his offer.

After that difficult conversation, Sakura found she was looking forward to her night out. Maybe Deidara was right, she did need a man after all. Sakura dressed in a slinky cocktail dress and heels, applying eyeliner with a shaky hand. She looked at herself in the mirror as she got ready, feeling ridiculous and out of place in makeup and heels. She took a steadying swig of neat vodka. If she was going to die in a fight at the Cave, she might as well have at least one fun night out beforehand.

Deidara smirked when he saw Sakura's getup, but not unkindly. With his encouragement, she started trying to enjoy herself. She began playing her part. She rolled her hips when she walked, crossing her ankles to exaggerate her firm ass. She didn't smile, but an alluring glint flashed in her eyes. She carried herself straight; her posture perfected by years of martial arts.  
‘You're doing great. Enjoy yourself,’ Deidara whispered as the doorman let them in. Sakura caught a glimpse of herself in the swanky mirrored wall as she entered the bar. She looked cool, sophisticated and elegant. She looked like a different person. She looked like she fitted in at the classy bar. She looked like she was too good for Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura approached the bar and ordered a drink, putting it on Deidara’s tab. While the bartender mixed her cocktail, Sakura scanned the crowd. Deidara himself had abandoned her moments after he had entered the room and caught sight of his college friends. She sighed, although it was no less than she expected. Now he had a gang of buddies from art school, of course his younger, heartbroken, workaholic neighbour would play second fiddle. Deidara had changed since he had started college. Obviously, he had work commitments and new friendships but that didn't explain his late nights, his constant tiredness and the bruises snaking up and down his body. He always seemed on edge, he disappeared for days without warning and Sakura had noticed that he now carried a gun. As she watched him socialise, there was a strain to his voice, as if he was hiding a great secret. And the guy who he was with gave her the creeps. He was baby-faced but his eyes were hard and cruel.

She sipped her drink, relishing the sharp, ice-cold taste. She flipped her hair away from her face and licked her lips. She was aware of eyes on her; mainly appreciative male eyes, apart from the glares of the occasional jealous girlfriend. This was not something she was used to. Sakura knew she wasn't exactly hideous, but she preferred to focus on her training or work rather than improving her appearance. Normally, she was dressed in exercise clothing: tracksuit pants, shorts and sports bras, with a sweaty face and her hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. Practical and comfortable for a day's training, but not particularly sexy.

She glanced around, looking over her shoulder. If Deidara was otherwise occupied, she might as well see if there were any guys she liked the look of. After all, it had been too long. There was a group of guys standing a few feet away from her, unashamedly checking her out. They were dressed in fashionable, expensive clothes, swigging beers straight from the bottle and joking immaturely. Frat boys, Sakura thought disdainfully. They were all 'dudes' and 'bros' and full of big talk yet they were essentially overgrown children with Daddy's credit card. Not her type. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs and turned away, taking another sip of her cocktail. She was looking for someone a little less _average_ , a little more of a man. She scanned the bar again. Deidara was still chatting to his friend: that baby-faced guy with the cruel eyes. He had the distinct pretentious air of an ‘artiste’, but something about him was off. She sighed openly. This was what Deidara had abandoned her for? Sakura was tempted to leave. She felt ridiculous in her short dress. She longed to scrub her makeup off and curl up in bed.

Turning round, Sakura felt eyes on her. She was about to tell the frat boys she wasn't interested, when she saw the type of man she had been looking for. He was sitting in a private booth, surrounded by a group of beautiful people yet somehow he was distanced from them. He had a lean, muscular frame, dressed in a well-cut suit with immaculately tousled red hair. The aura he gave off was dangerous; it was exciting. It was _sexy_. There was a tattoo on his forehead; the kanji for love. The dark circles round his eyes served only to highlight his impressive bone structure but what got Sakura most was his intense face. Even as she looked his way, he drew his lips into a teasing half-smirk.

He was staring at her openly, as if he liked what he saw. His gaze was so powerful she blushed very slightly and looked away. He smirked even harder, like he was amused by the effect he'd had on her. Sakura, however, chastised herself. As a former champion fighter, she did not make a habit of blushing when a man looked at her. She steeled herself and stared back at him from under her lashes, neither of them breaking eye contact.

If Sakura had a type it was for bad boys. She liked sophistication, maturity, charm and confidence. She liked her guys to be masculine and slightly wild, perhaps with a rebellious, dangerous streak. The redhead embodied all of these traits she found so desirable. Yet Sakura was wiser now - Sasuke Uchiha had also embodied all of these traits and she wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

She gave the sexy redhead a small, teasing smile before finishing her drink. Deidara had finally introduced her to his friend from art school, Sasori. There was definitely something weird about him and Sakura couldn’t see why Deidara got on so well with the little creep. Ignoring them, she listened to the music; a mellow slinky number with a prominent bassline was playing. She supposed she could dance. It would make a change from half-heartedly listening to Deidara's ribbing about her love life. She felt the urge to return the banter - when was the last time a girl looked at Deidara anyway?

Instead, she ignored his jokes and headed to the bar. Putting aside feelings of self-consciousness, she swayed her hips as she walked across the warmly lit room. She showed herself off a bit. There was a glimmer in her eyes that was normally reserved for a hard-to-beat opponent in the ring. Tonight, she was putting her worries aside. For just one night, she would try to have fun. Her movements were slow and deliberate but emphasised every aspect of her body. She wasn't trashy or overtly sexual but as she walked past the tables Sakura could feel people looking twice.

The redhead was no exception, she noted with a small amount of pleasure. His eyes were on her slim figure as she moved across the room. She glanced at him briefly but turned away modestly when she felt his stare boring into her. Suddenly, her movements became more self-conscious, more reserved. She traced the length of her exposed collarbone before fiddling with a strand of her pink hair.

She knew what she wanted. But a well-hidden shy streak overcame Sakura as she stole another glance at the redhead. She blushed when she saw he was still looking her way. Sasuke had been her first, her only but even he had not ignited so much desire in her with one glance. A smirk crept over the redhead's face. It seemed to amuse him, watching her reactions to his attention. Sakura blushed harder and turned her back on him. He made no attempts to hide his stare, despite her obvious self-consciousness.

‘If you asked that man very nicely, I think he might buy you a drink,’ Deidara crept up behind Sakura and whispered. She wasn't surprised that Deidara had noticed her exchange with the sexy redhead. At least he wasn’t pointing. ‘And screw you senseless,’ he added under his breath, his voice full of laughter.

To her chagrin Deidara's words resonated with Sakura. While his mocking was uncalled-for, he was right. She imagined dancing with the redhead, feeling his muscular body pressed against hers as they moved to the music. She imagined the feel of his lips on hers, of his hands roaming her body, removing her dress, teasing her…

Sakura flushed as she came to her senses. She needed to stop thinking these suggestive thoughts. More than that, she needed a drink. Ignoring the object of her fantasy's booth lest a blush take over her face, Sakura made her way to the bar. As she ordered her drink, a man’s voice behind her asked the bartender to make it two.  
‘My treat,’ he said smoothly. Sakura turned round to see who had spoken. It was the sexy redhead. Up close, he was even more attractive. No sensible thoughts formed in Sakura's head. His voice was deep and confident, and for a fleeting moment Sakura wondered if it was him she’d heard on the phone earlier. No, that guy had had a sharper accent than the man in front of her.

The bartender placed their drinks in front of them.  
‘Thank you,’ Sakura said to the redhead, when she finally noticed he had bought her a drink.  
‘I thought I'd better introduce myself, seeing as you've been staring all night. Gaara,’ he said, still smirking.  
‘I’m Sakura,’ she replied. No surnames, she noted. She held out her hand for him to shake. Surprising her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. He gently kissed the back of her hand, looking at her from under his red hair. Even when he let her go, Sakura could feel the ghost of his cool lips against her skin. She felt her face grow hot again, the faint pink tinting her cheeks.

Gaara sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving Sakura's. ‘You know, you're cute when you blush,’ he said. The mere sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine and at the mention of the word, Sakura blushed deeper, earning a smirk from Gaara.  
‘See what I mean. Do I make you nervous?’ he asked, teasing.  
"N-no….’ Sakura said. Even to her own ears, she sounded nervous. Gaara laughed at her gently. She was making a total fool out of herself. The moment a man so much as spoke to her she'd turned into a quivering wreck. ‘No, just curious,’ Sakura tried again. She sipped her drink. She could taste the potency of her cocktail and emboldened by the alcohol she asked; ‘Why were you staring at me like that?’

She referred to earlier, when she had been subject to his intense gaze from across the bar. Gaara smirked again. He looked her over from head to toe, starting with her feet and following her long, slim legs up her crossed thighs and to her hips. His eyes traced her trim waist and over her small breasts. His gaze lingered a little on her collarbone, glanced over her lips before focussing again on her eyes.  
‘Like what?’ he asked. His words were light, teasing yet loaded with put-on innocence.  
‘Like you were undressing me with your eyes,’ Sakura said. There was a cheeky tone to her voice. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she brushed it away delicately.  
‘Maybe I was,’ Gaara picked up on her tone and mimicked it.  
‘Were you?’ Sakura asked.  
‘Will you leave if I say yes?’ He was teasing her. He knew the answer already. He sat at a free table and indicated her to sit opposite him.  
‘No,’ Sakura replied and she took a seat. She longed to make him uncomfortable, to make him squirm, to embarrass him like he had to her. He remained unruffled and cool however, and she couldn't imagine him blushing or nervously stammering.  
‘Didn't think so,’ he said. Something about his cocky confidence and his self-assurance was exceedingly attractive. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and more importantly, knew how to get it.

‘Oh, really?’ Sakura asked, ‘What makes you so sure?’ She wasn't one to be won over so easily, though. In response Gaara leant forward from his seat. Shifting closer to her, he caressed a hand against her thigh for the briefest of seconds, allowing his touch to shoot desire through Sakura's body before moving his hand to her face. He brushed a strand of hair back from her eyes and stroked her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. He locked a hand through her hair and brought their faces closer together. With his eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted, Sakura realised he was going in for a kiss. Willingly, she leaned the rest of the way forward, lips pursed in a cherry-pink pout. Gaara stopped when their lips were centimetres apart, their noses almost brushing.  
‘This,’ he whispered, before drawing back slightly.

She had wanted to kiss him but after that display, she decided he was going to have to work for it.  
‘You're kidding me, right?’ she laughed derisively, a monosyllabic burst of mockery.

‘Huh,’ Gaara sounded surprised. He laughed too. ‘You're very interesting. And beautiful.’

Sakura was long past the stage where she made allowances for guys who casually called her beautiful. The word was bandied about too much, it was too easy to say, yet from Gaara it sounded sincere. He leaned towards her again but this time she turned her cheek towards him. Undiscouraged, he reached across the table and entwined his fingers with hers. Sakura’s first instinct was to draw her hand back, flinch away from his touch, but she found herself grasping his hand, letting her fingers brush over his wrist.  
  
‘So tell me about you, Sakura?’ he asked. She froze. It had been so long since she’d actually socialised, let alone with a hot guy. She had no idea what to talk about. What could she possibly have to say that could interest this man? All she did was work and worry about things. She wasn’t even a pro fighter any more. She hadn’t even finished high school. She didn’t even have a favourite TV programme, for god’s sake.  
‘Well, I’m quite boring, really,’ she said eventually.  
‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ Gaara said, his eyes fixed on her like she was the only person in the room. What the hell, Sakura thought. She had nothing to lose. She started telling him about her too-short pro fighting career. Funny anecdotes, embarrassing losses, the short-lived glory a win brought her, the painful injuries. 

He nodded at the right places, added comments and told a few anecdotes of his own. It turned out he was quite the martial artist as well. They were both a little unsure at first but as they chatted, Sakura was barely noticing time pass. She couldn’t believe it. She was actually having a conversation with a man that wasn’t Deidara or a bank manager. There was chemistry; there was charisma. Despite his composed and self-assured approach, there was almost a shy, reserved side to him behind his seemingly unflappable exterior. 

She looked up at his face as he leant over towards her. A few metres behind Gaara’s back, Deidara was giving her a double thumbs up. She couldn’t help it, she laughed and, surprising her, Gaara laughed with her. Rather than a teasing smirk, she was treated to a glimpse of a dazzling smile. He delicately kissed her cheek and down towards her neck. A tingle shot through Sakura's body at the feel of his lips against her bare skin.

In response, she wrapped her hands round his neck and moved her body closer to his. She pressed her chest against his torso where she was met with a wall of muscle hidden by a designer shirt.

Gaara's magnetic good looks, his sardonic personality and the compelling force she had felt between had served only to ignite her arousal. She longed for frantic, passionate sex with Gaara; the kind she had never had with Sasuke. She longed for his touch, his hands peeling off her dress and delicately caressing her bare skin. She longed to fight for dominance and for him to pin her to the bed and give her what she craved. She longed to flip him over and take control when she was getting close, to feel his hands moving over her body, to kiss him with passion, grace, force.

‘So, can I kiss you now?’ he asked, although his smirk told her he didn't expect her to decline. Sakura leaned close to him, breathing in his clean, spicy scent. He rested a hand on her waist, and brought his lips toward hers. They kissed slowly and chastely at first, letting the anticipation build before Sakura could contain herself no longer. With a soft moan, she lightly bit down on Gaara's lip, tugging it gently with her teeth. Taking that as invitation, Gaara deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip between her lips and dance and twist with Sakura's. While they kissed, occasionally pausing for breath, Sakura delighted at the feeling of Gaara's unrelenting lips against her own.

With a jolt, she realised the time. She should have been in bed an hour ago, and with regret she broke apart from Gaara. It would hardly do to wake up late for work again, and even though she’d only had two drinks, the late night would throw her off. If she was to stand a chance fighting at the Cave, she needed to be on top form. All of this was very out of character for Sakura – agreeing to an underground fight, going to a bar, kissing a hot guy – and she found she was enjoying it. The risk, the adrenaline… it was like the colours were finally coming back into her life, after all the setbacks she had had. For the first time in a long time, since Naruto vanished, since the injury, since Sasuke dumped her, since the debts started mounting up. For the first time it felt like she was coming out on top. The tide was turning.

‘Do you want to take my phone number?’ she offered, after explaining to Gaara that she had to leave. With a nod, he reached into his pocket for his phone. He looked at the screen for a few moments, eyes wide, before immediately dialling a call. He put the phone to his ear and let go of her hand.  
‘Sorry, Sakura,’ he muttered, kissing her on the forehead. Then, before she could say anything else, he turned around immediately and left the bar, already talking on the phone. No, he didn’t just leave, he _ran_ out of the bar.

‘What the hell?’ Sakura said out loud. That _asshole._ He’d spent all night talking to her, and then to run out of the bar just like that? Who the hell did things like that? If he didn’t want her number, all he had to do was say. The more she thought about it, the angrier Sakura got. He’d obviously received an urgent message, from his girlfriend or his wife, probably. Whose existence he’d conveniently forgotten to mention when he’d been kissing her.

Sakura’s heart sank. Reality was biting once again. The tide wasn’t turning. She was still lonely and in debt. She’d been idiotic to accept the offer at the Cave, just like she’d been idiotic to go to the damn bar and kiss Gaara. Now she had a fresh bit of humiliation to add on top of the heartbreak from being dumped by Sasuke.

As soon as she got home, she kicked off her uncomfortable shoes, pulled off her short dress and slipped into a comfy old t-shirt. With her makeup scrubbed off, she climbed into her bed alone. She wasn't Sakura the sex goddess. She was barely Sakura the champion fighter. She was just plain, pink haired Sakura Haruno; a high school dropout cast aside by Sasuke Uchiha. Kissing a hot guy wasn’t going to change that. Especially one who literally ran away from her.


	2. Fight

Saturday, the day of her fight at the Cave, rolled round before Sakura knew it. She had been training hard, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough. She was still in decent shape, and worked out every day, but it had been a while since her last real fight – the one that had written off her pro career. Even though she’d healed eventually, by the time she was back to strength the scene had moved on, there was another new face, another name on the bill. Careers were short and the competition was ruthless. She’d faded into obscurity, focussing on her gym and training the next wave of fighters. 

She’d never feel truly ready, she thought, and not for the first time since the phone call, she wondered what the hell she was doing. Fighting in the Cave was risky. But if she didn’t do _something_ the debts would only continue to mount up. She’d exhausted all her other options – there was nobody she could borrow money from, her bank manager would laugh at the prospect of a loan, and she couldn’t feasibly work another job, on top of working early mornings and late nights, all day every day at the dojo. Plus who the hell would hire a high school dropout with no real work experience outside of martial arts? It was taking this offer at the Cave or selling her body, and Sakura liked to think she had a scrap of dignity left.

She’d had to train hard the last few days, if only to push the utter humiliation she’d faced at the bar out of her mind. Sweating and breathless, she reached for her water bottle. The first guy she’d talked to in ages and he actually ran away, for god’s sake. In the back of her mind, she saw not only Sasuke’s cruel, laughing face but Gaara’s as well. He had made a complete mockery of her. She used the hurt to push herself harder with her training.

As she caught her breath, she heard the phone in her office ringing. Same as before, no caller ID and the caller didn’t give his name.  
‘There’s an extra 25% in it for you if you throw the fight,’ he said, as cold and smug as before. He disconnected before she could say anything.

Saturday, of course was her rest day. She could not afford to be on anything but top form for her fight. One wrong move could potentially hospitalise her. There were no rules at the Cave. Sakura was justifiably proud of her reputation on the pro circuit. She had never lost a fight, not even her last one that had left her so injured. No matter who her opponent was, no matter how skilled they were, Sakura did not give in. But the stakes were higher this time. She didn’t like the idea of throwing the fight. Losing, and especially on purpose, was not how she worked.

Having roped Deidara into acting as her coach, Sakura arrived early. It wasn’t actually a cave – it was an abandoned warehouse, leased by a notorious drug baron to show off his gangland empire. Sakura tried not to think about that. She tried not to think about the bloodthirsty crowd, the criminals, and the fact that she was risking her life. She was there to get her check and that was all.

She placed her bag in the locker room and began to warm up, Deidara encouraging her. Sakura looked at the programme to see who she was fighting. She needed a game plan. She fought a good tactical match and she had survival instinct and strength on her side, but it was silly to go in unawares.

She scanned the board, but by her name there was a blank slot. She clenched her fists. Sakura marched over to the guy who looked like he was in charge and confronted him. After she had been assured she would have an opponent in due course, Sakura left, feeling uneasy. As she headed back to the locker room she passed Kakashi Hatake, the man who had allegedly copied a thousand techniques. He was no longer in his prime but he’d been a professional champion for several seasons unchallenged, although that was a few years ago now. If he was here, he must have fallen on hard times too. Not even the very best were immune.

Nodding politely, she thought of her game plan. Not only did she not know the place, she didn’t even know who her competitor was. They had the immediate advantage of surprise. In which case, Sakura decided her best move was to fight defensively at first: let her competitor attack until she figured out their movements, their strengths and their weaknesses. Then she could work out how best to throw the fight convincingly. The downside of this plan was if she was pitted against someone who could take her out within the first few moves – although that would mean she would lose anyway. She sat nervously in the slowly-filling locker room.

The first fight was called and Sakura headed out to watch. As a big name she wasn't until seventh on the list, meaning the crowd would be well and truly warmed up by the time she stepped into the ring. She had never heard of either competitor but she watched with interest as they took chunks out of each other. Examining and analysing others' techniques allowed her to better understand her own and to hypothetically counter each blow. The first fight was over soon after it began and a team of underlings were summoned to mop up the blood of the loser. Sakura winced. The bloodshed was as gruesome as she’d thought. With all the adrenaline and testosterone fuelling the action, plus the braying mob surrounding the ring, it was nothing short of brutal.

It wasn't until the fifth fight was called that Sakura found out her opponent. She was distractedly pacing the locker room when Deidara burst in with the news. It turned out he hadn't heard his name properly: something of the Desert. So her opponent was male? That was it, Sakura thought, she was fucked. She wouldn’t have to throw the fight, she’d get flattened immediately. There weren't many women who fought underground, but it hadn’t even occurred to her that she’d be fighting a man when she agreed to the offer.

Eventually, she was called up, which put her out of her misery. She couldn’t back out now. She did a few final stretches, punched Deidara a few times and wrapped her hands in bandage up to her forearms. She set her jaw, took several deep breaths and cleared her mind. She wasn't plain, pink-haired Sakura anymore. She became the infamous (if slightly rusty) Cherry Blossom.

She bowed her head as she walked out through the dry ice. At the mention of her name, the entire place exploded into applause. That was a surprise, but she had to play up to it. She blinked to clear the smoky ice from her eyes and glanced round. She couldn’t see Sasuke in the crowd and she didn’t look for him. She put her hands above her head to acknowledge the applause, which increased tenfold when she blew a couple of kisses. Deidara was waiting ringside with towels, water and heartfelt words of encouragement. The two bumped fists, and Sakura surveyed her opponent.

He had his back to her but Sakura judged him to be average height, but lean and muscular with it. Although he was obviously the stronger competitor, perhaps Sakura had the edge when it came to speed. It was wishful thinking, and she knew it. She was fucked. Sakura's best bet was to use her speed to her advantage; dodging and blocking his attacks until she could fall convincingly, without getting her skull crushed.

Her red-haired competitor was still talking to his coach and medic, with his back to her and his shirt still on. Sakura was growing impatient. She wanted to get this over with. While she watched, the guy removed his t-shirt. As she had thought, he was well-built, however what caught Sakura's eye was the state of his back. He was covered in bruises. She might stand more of a chance at survival if he wasn’t fresh.

Dressed in only his shorts, her adversary clapped his coach on the back before slowly turning round. Sakura took her position to a smattering of cheers. She surveyed her opponent desperately, hoping to see anything she could use to her advantage. He had pale, smooth skin under which muscles were visible – bulging biceps, strong shoulders and a rippling six pack. She took in his face: a strong jaw, a firmly set mouth. Green eyes surrounded by dark circles and a kanji tattoo half-hidden by his tousled red hair. She did not need to look twice to know it read love.

Gaara. That fucking asshole.

Even as she watched him, his eyes took on a teasing glint and a familiar smirk curled back over his teeth. It was almost as if he was mocking her with his very presence. Before, she had been scared. Now she was livid. How dare he? Her set face instantly became a glare that would have made lesser men flinch. If possible, Gaara smirked harder.

‘Not running away now, are you?’ she shouted. The crowd howled, lapping up the trash-talk. The bell rung, signalling the start of the match. Sakura lurched forward, her tactical game plan forgotten. Goaded by the roars of the noisy crowd, she charged at Gaara in fury.

The fight should have lasted seconds, he should have laid her out with one punch, but he dragged out the torture, dancing around her like a weird courtship ritual, grinning all the while. She fell once, then twice, feeling blood running down her face after a glance to the side of her head. Blood and sweat dripped into her eyes and she could barely see. The next hit he landed, that’s when she’d do it. She’d fall, and make it seem like she couldn’t get up. Then she’d collect her cash, and get the fuck out of this damned place.

She wanted to get a couple of good, hard jabs in first though, and as he lunged forwards, her foot made contact with his abdomen. He fell sideways, crashing into the ropes, so she brought a knee up to clock him under the chin. He jerked backwards, then his legs seemed to give way and he fell in a heap on the matt, spitting blood. The bastard had probably bitten his own tongue, there was no way she’d kicked him that hard. He tried to get up – or at least acted like he was struggling, but at the brief moment when they made eye contact, he winked at her. Fucking _winked._ Then he collapsed on the floor again.

Sakura stood there dumbfounded during the ten-second count that he was down until she was declared the winner. The bloodthirsty crowd in the warehouse burst into cheers. Dutifully, she raised her arms to acknowledge the applause. The praise felt totally hollow. She felt nauseous and empty.

He'd _let_ her win. He hadn't fought properly. She was supposed to throw the fight and he was the one who had fucking thrown it. And suddenly, Sakura was pissed. _Really_ pissed. She left the ring as quickly as possible and once she was in the relative safety of the locker room, she screamed. She let her anger and frustration out in that scream, before punching a metal locker. It hurt, and her knuckle was grazed and bleeding but Sakura didn't care.

She hated Gaara. She _hated_ him. How dare he? He had no right to interfere in her life like that. What the fuck was his problem? What the hell was he playing at? He hadn't even put much effort into the fight he had presumably picked. Was he trying not to hurt her because she was a woman? Had someone told _him_ to throw the fight? He’d got a few good hits in though, damn him. She wiped blood out of her eyes and stared in the mirror. She wasn’t a pretty sight. But although bruises hurt, they’d be gone in a few days. Not like this crushing feeling. She felt bitter as Sasuke's face appeared in her mind. He was probably out there in the crowd, betting on her fight and lapping up her humiliation. Suddenly, her foul temper increased and she was pissed off with both Gaara and Sasuke.

She needed a drink. She had no idea how she was going to get her money or if there would be repercussions for not following the instructions. The arena had begun to empty after the last fight and the after-party was just getting started. Sakura ordered vodka from the open bar and swallowed it in one gulp. She could see Sasuke a few metres away, talking to a group of people. She seethed and put as much distance between them as possible.

Deidara came over with the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. He teased her briefly about her surprising opponent. Sakura glared, tempted to make a scene. Deidara's face contorted into a slight frown and he shook his head.  
‘The guy with the blue skin - is he still here?’ he asked quietly. Initially thinking he was trying to be funny, Sakura scanned the crowd until she saw who he meant. Deidara had his back to the guy and it didn't look like he had seen them. Sakura nodded once. Her friend frowned, pulling his hood closer over his face.  
‘I’ve got to go. Don't talk to him or his mate, whatever you do,’ he said in a low voice and with that, he moved quickly to the exit and disappeared into the night.

Now what? Sakura thought. Deidara seemed like he was frightened of the man. That by itself was weird – her art student friend wasn’t the scaredy type. She grabbed herself another drink and politely chatted to a rich, but notoriously dodgy guy. She’d recognised him from the newspaper. She might as well make the best of it. If one of these lowlifes had been particularly impressed they might sponsor her. Upon reflection, Sakura decided it would be much more dignified to be selling her body on the streets.

Across the room, she saw the man with the blue skin again. He was tall; closer to seven foot than six and he was wearing a long black coat. Next to him and dressed in a similar style was a smaller, leaner man with long dark hair. They were deep in conversation. Sakura was too far away to overhear, or even see their faces properly. She made her excuses to the gross guy she was talking to and approached the bar, carefully bypassing the pair. The blue man bore more than a passing resemblance to a shark, she noted, while there was something familiar about his companion. Sakura queued at the bar. She wondered who they were and why Deidara had been so anxious to leave once he had seen them.

When she turned around again, she noticed the mysterious pair were talking to Gaara. Although their words were hushed, she could tell they were arguing. She didn't dare get any closer to hear what they were saying, though curiosity burned at the back of her throat. Then, with a contemptuous glare at the other men, Gaara turned and left them. As he passed Sakura she could feel a cold aura emanating from him.  
‘Congratulations on the win,’ he spat bitterly. Under any normal circumstances, Sakura would have punched him but Gaara's malevolence made her stop herself.

Fuming, she downed her drink and decided to leave, payment be damned. As she reached the door, the man with the blue skin stepped in her path. Remembering Deidara's warning not to talk to him, she tried to sidestep him. He moved in front of her, a hand barring her exit.  
‘Excuse me,’ she said icily, meeting the man's eyes with a cold stare. All her anger and frustration was coming to a head and if this stupid shark-face wasn't careful, she was going to really blow up on him. The man met her stare and did not move.  
‘Where is he?’ he asked calmly. Beneath his measured tone of voice, Sakura heard the trace of a threat.  
‘Who?’ she snapped. He still hadn't moved.  
‘Deidara,’ the man replied impatiently. Sakura glared at him in a guise of confusion.  
‘I don't know what you're talking about. You're in my way. _Move_ ,’ she said fiercely, her eyes flashing with anger. The man looked her over scornfully. He opened his mouth to reply but his previously silent companion spoke instead.  
‘Kisame,’ he cautioned. The blue skinned man treated her to an unpleasant sneer before letting her pass. His companion with the dark hair was fixing her with a disinterested, emotionless glance. Feeling their eyes on her back as she left the room, Sakura shivered slightly.

She waited until she reached her car and had the doors shut and locked before she burst into tears of frustration. She was tempted to call Deidara to establish what was going on here but something stopped her. This was out of her depths. She drove home, stopping by the dojo on her way past.

In the office, Sakura collapsed in her chair. She surveyed the empty desk opposite hers - it was the same as it always had been. Messy. She crossed the room to take a closer look. There was a half-completed training schedule, abandoned under a pack of boiled sweets. Letters from earnest fans, who were motivated by his motto of never giving up. Sakura read a couple. She, too, was inspired by his dedication and self-belief. She looked at the wall, where certificates and trophies hung in their dozens. In the centre there was a large framed photograph. It depicted Sakura throwing up a peace sign and holding one handle of a large trophy. A tan blond man with a cheeky grin stood next to her, his arm casually draped round her shoulders. He was holding the other handle of the cup. She remembered that day as clearly as yesterday. That had been their first pro season. Two nobodies had wiped the floor with all the competition.

Three days later, Naruto had disappeared.

Sakura pulled into the car park of her apartment building. Deidara's motorbike wasn't parked in its usual spot so she guessed he was lying low for a while. Sakura headed up the stairs and let herself in. There was mail on her doormat which she kicked aside. More bills, likely. Nobody ever wrote to her. Her best friend had disappeared off the face of the earth and her ex-boyfriend preferred to phone to taunt her with the sound of his voice. Sakura picked up the stack of envelopes and sorted through: two bills which she didn’t have the nerve to open, some junk mail and a business card.

She turned the card over in her hands. It was matte black and decorated with a tasteful red cloud on one side; on the other was a name and contact number. Itachi Uchiha.

Why was the brother her ex hated contacting her? She'd never met him and she hadn't expected him to know her address. In fact, she only knew of him from Sasuke's apparent desire to kill him. That didn't exactly explain what his card was doing in her mail. She certainly wasn't going to go after another Uchiha, even though she could barely think of a better way to get even with Sasuke.

Sakura thought little of the business card. She had more pressing things to worry about; like how the hell she was going to get her money. She’d survived her underground fight and her unbeaten reputation was still intact but Sakura realised, as she slipped into an uneasy sleep, that there was more to life than a reputation.


	3. Burn

It was getting dark outside. The summer air was balmy and sticky; the city was filled with its cloying heat. It had rained earlier and there was still a touch of damp in the atmosphere. There was no breeze. The sounds of trucks on the highway and emergency sirens in the city centre could be heard. Earlier, there had been gunshots. Now it was quiet.

The dojo was empty again. Sakura was panting and drenched in sweat. She counted through her laboured breaths as she struck the punch bag again and again. She gave herself mental instructions and challenges, letting out her frustration with each punch and kick. The empty hall echoed with the sound of the impact. Repeat until exhaustion.

The phone rang, interrupting her flow. She checked the caller ID. The only people likely to ring her were people who would piss her off: Sasuke, for instance, or debt collectors, or the man who’d offered her the fight at the Cave – which was tied with her night at the bar as the most humiliating experience of her life.

She answered warily. It was Gaara. That fucking guy again.   
‘Watch out for strangers,’ he said cryptically, ‘They’re coming for you,’ He sounded agitated, breathless.  
‘What are you talking about?’ her words bristled with anger. He hung up on her. Sakura swore loudly. Gaara was really trying her patience. How the hell had he got her number? He had literally run away when she’d tried to give it to him – when she was under the clearly mistaken impression that he was an attractive guy.

What did he mean by that? Don’t talk to strangers? Did he think she was stupid? It had sounded as if he was running while talking on the phone. She didn't understand anything about him, or what the hell he wanted with her. She allowed herself a breather to calm down in which she wiped the sweat from her glistening forehead and sipped water from a bottle. A few minutes later she returned to pummelling the punch bag, smacking it as if it were her worst enemy. Every-time she made contact with the punch bag, she thought back to the last few days, the longest few days of her life.

First there had been Gaara: meeting him at the bar, he had seemed like a great guy. Charming, charismatic… when he had kissed her she had felt on top of the world. Now, it seemed he had brought her nothing but trouble. When he had turned up at the fight, Sakura had been shocked, humiliated and irritated. Sasuke was pissing her off the same as usual – he’d left her a rather spiteful voicemail congratulating her on her win. Plus there was the business card from his brother. She wanted nothing to do with the Uchihas if she could help it. To top it off, Deidara had been acting even more strangely than normal – and even by Sakura's standards he was a real weirdo. He had barely returned to his apartment since Saturday's fight and he wasn't answering his phone. Her quick mind analysed the situations and she began to suspect something bigger was going on there. Lost in thought, she slacked off on her training and barely noticed the door opening and closing.

‘Miss Haruno?’ a man's voice called across the room.  
‘Who's asking?’ Sakura replied warily. She turned slowly to face the newcomer. There were two of them and she recognised them on sight. They were Deidara's acquaintances from the fight on Saturday: the tall, blue-skinned man and his companion, the smaller man; slim with long dark hair. They were acting friendly enough but Sakura's instinct was to tread carefully.

‘My name is Itachi Uchiha,’ the man introduced himself, ‘This is Kisame Hoshigaki. We have some things we wish to discuss with you.’  
Itachi Uchiha? The man who’d sent her that business card. How had he got her address? What the hell was he doing in her dojo?

She surveyed him carefully. He did, in fact look like his brother. The same good looks, the same expression of cultivated entitlement and yet the older Uchiha brother seemed politer, gentler but altogether more ruthless. He seemed old before his time - although Sakura calculated he could only be in his mid twenties; it seemed he had seen enough horrors to last him a lifetime.

‘Okay. Go ahead,’ Sakura said politely. She was on edge but she tried to welcome them with impeccable manners. She would stay one step ahead of this game; hide her body language, give away no more information than necessary and try to figure him out. It was then she looked down and appraised her outfit. She was dressed in a sports bra and a pair of tight shorts, her hands and feet wrapped in protective bandages. While suitable for training, it was hardly appropriate for discussions with Uchiha people.  
‘Perhaps, ah….perhaps after you have refreshed yourself from your training,’ Uchiha said politely. He was making a point of not looking at her body, but his companion was staring openly. _Pervert_. She showed the pair into the office, before seeking refuge in the women's room.

In the shower, she wondered what they could possibly want to discuss with her. She had no wish to know the details of Uchiha dealings, though she was sure most of them were highly dubious in nature and involved the not-so-admirable professions of violence, intimidation, money-laundering and major fraud. Even Sasuke had seemed scared of his family. After drying her hair quickly and changing into her street clothes, Sakura returned to her guests in her office.

‘This is a nice dojo, Miss Haruno,’ Itachi Uchiha said politely. Sakura gritted her teeth at his blank expression. He seemed unreadable, just like his brother.  
‘Thank you Mr. Uchiha. They say it is one of the best in the city,’ she replied. It was true; the wall behind her desk was decorated with dozens of awards and trophies. And yet somehow she was still struggling for members and racking up debts.  
‘Do you run it by yourself?’ Uchiha asked. Sakura was getting fed up of the small talk. She was sure the pair had not come just to compliment her on her gym.  
‘No, I work with a friend,’ she replied politely, although her heart panged when she said it. Was that too much to give away? She saw Uchiha had inclined his head very slightly at this comment; perhaps it had come as a surprise to him.

‘How interesting,’ said Uchiha, ‘I understand you and my dear brother Sasuke have not had much contact recently, Miss Haruno?’  
‘On the contrary, Mr. Uchiha, we spoke just the other day,’ Sakura replied coldly. She omitted the fact that he’d just left her a nasty voicemail. Itachi nodded gravely - he was just saying that to get a rise out of her, to expose her vulnerabilities. She ignored the taunt, keeping her face neutral. She knew how his type worked.

‘We have been asked to contact you as we believe you show great potential. We have all read about your dojo in the papers. Some of our associates were in the crowd at your recent fight and we were very impressed with your achievement,’ Uchiha said. He was speaking in a polite, overly formal tone. Nobody could really have been impressed with that fight – the Gaara embarrassment where she had seen this gruesome twosome.

‘We want you to join us, Miss Haruno,’ Uchiha said.  
‘J-join you?’ Sakura gasped. She inwardly cursed herself for letting a stutter slip into her speech. First sign of weakness she had shown, ‘Why? Who are you, exactly?’

They were representing some gang or other. Whatever it was, if it had anything to do with the Cave, she wasn’t going back there. She set her jaw and fixed the two men with a disdainful gaze. She’d find some other way to pay off her debts. She didn't want to do business with criminals and lowlifes.

‘Organisation is perhaps the best word…although it is hard to define in layman's terms. Akatsuki is so much more than an organisation. It is one of the biggest investors in the country... Its members are the elite specialists in their field. We only take the very best,’ Uchiha continued.

‘Why do you want me to join you?’ Sakura repeated. From the slight twitch in Itachi's mouth, she could tell he had been expecting her to react to the name Akatsuki. She knew people normally bent over backwards as soon as that name was thrown into conversation. Fear addled rational thought. Sakura however, suppressed the initial fear she felt when hearing the name of the country's most notorious gang. She didn't change her stony expression – instinct was telling her to tread carefully.  
‘Because you're good at what you do,’ the other man, Kisame, spoke for the first time, ‘That's why.’ Fish-face was obviously the brawn of the outfit, while Uchiha made up the brainpower.

‘You've won all those fights. I read somewhere you've never lost. That's an impressive record for a high school dropout, especially when you consider who you've been up against. You even beat Gaara of the Desert at the Cave. He’s a dangerous guy – he’s at the top of his game. But you beat him. It sounds impossible, but you did it. How?’ Uchiha asked.   
He was making fun of her. He had to be. It sounded impossible because it _was_ impossible. He had to know that Gaara had thrown the fight. Itachi’s façade of politeness never wavered. She wondered if he was testing her. Was it _him_ that had offered her the money to fight? He spoke in the same cultivated accent, but his voice was a pitch higher than the man on the phone. A family member, perhaps?

‘I train a lot harder than anyone I know. If you want to be the best, you have to work for it,’ Sakura replied, keeping her distance, ‘I never give up and I never take second best. There's no easy way; no shortcuts.’  
‘That is the kind of philosophy we adopt within Akatsuki,’ he replied simply. He allowed an attempt at a genuine smile to spread over his face. He was good, she'd give him that. But he was too like Sasuke. She saw through it. She feigned interest, allowing a spark to return to her blank eyes.

‘Akatsuki could offer you many things, Sakura,’ he said in a smooth, seductive voice, ‘Protection, income, opportunities…. You could do what you love best. All the fights you wanted, plenty of customers in this lovely dojo you’ve worked so hard to build… wouldn’t you like that, Sakura?’

Like that would work. Sakura found it personally insulting that he was resorting to flirtatious techniques. She guessed it ran in the family; the Uchihas were confident in their own attractiveness and power over women to the point of being cocky. And since when had she been on first name terms with him?

‘Not interested, _Mr_. _Uchiha_ ,’ Sakura replied coldly. Her brush-off was simple and classy. She kept her facial expression blank, even though the implications of what he was saying were making her blood boil. He nodded his head slightly and she knew she had won. For now.  
‘Very well,’ Uchiha replied but his tone told her this was not over. ‘You know what to do if you change your mind.’ He bowed his head respectfully, before standing to leave. His companion followed him, leaving the room quiet again.   
  
Sakura waited until she heard their car leave before letting out a scream of frustration. His words rang in her ears…. ‘plenty of customers in this lovely dojo you’ve worked so hard to build’. So that's why membership was down. Her customers were being frightened away by Akatsuki. Itachi fucking Uchiha and his crew were trying to force her into poverty so she’d side with their gang.

She wouldn’t kid herself. She had no particular skills that a notorious gang like that could want. She would just be their fighting dog. One of the many fighters they pitted against each other, competing with their gangland rivals. The only thing that made her valuable was the novelty factor – that she was a girl, and that she’d once been famous on the pro circuit. It was a game to them. And it turned out she was just a pawn.

Sakura packed up her belongings. She wasn’t sure if she was terrified or furious. She tied her pink hair, now dry, back from her face with a hairband and left the dark office. In the dojo, she straightened all the equipment and cleaned everything until it was spotless. She scrubbed and mopped long into the night, wanting to rid the place of all traces of Akatsuki's recent presence. As she locked up and crossed the parking lot to her car, she did not notice the figure watching her from the shadows.

Sakura drove home, stopping by the late night store on the way to pick up some dinner. She put some food in her cart and made her way to the checkout, hoping her card wouldn’t decline. Her recent brush with Akatsuki's associates meant she wasn't focussing on her shopping and barely noticed a flash of red hair down the aisle. She was sure it was Gaara. Sakura became angry. She was about to demand an explanation for his cryptic telephone call, but he did not even glance her way, choosing instead to hide in the produce section. She knew he had all the manners and charming disposition of a starving tiger, and she didn’t have the energy to chase after him.

As soon as she was home she checked all the windows of her apartment were shut and locked. As soon as she was satisfied everything was secure, she deadlocked the door. She laughed to herself a little after doing that. Knowing what little she did of Gaara and Akatsuki, she doubted a locked door would stop them.

There was a large envelope on the doormat. It wasn’t addressed, so it had obviously been hand-delivered. She opened it to find more banknotes than she’d ever held in her life. Relief flooded her veins. The mystery caller had paid up after all. Along with the cash, there was a plain black business card: no name, design or signature. Written in blank ink, was ‘too proud for 25%’ followed by a few question marks and a sad face. She turned the card over a couple of times, trying to work out who the hell would be so ruthless to pay someone to fight in the Cave… and then sign their note with an emoji. 

She counted the bills. It was all there. Now that she had the cash in her hand, one of her worries was assuaged, even if just temporarily.

Sakura put a half-full pan of water on the stove, ready to cook some noodles. Something caught her eye out the kitchen window. Towards the east, almost a mile away, she noticed a strange orange glow as if something was burning. She stared for a few minutes, unsure if it was a fire or not, until she heard the hissing of boiling water behind her. She poured the dried noodles and the seasoning into the pan and waited for her dinner to cook.

Meanwhile, she turned on her laptop and let it load. She searched for Akatsuki and clicked on the first link that came up. It was an official looking website, posing as a legitimate financial and security organisation. With interest, Sakura read through the webpage's information. It said a lot without really saying anything. She got the impression this was a front. Sakura clicked back on her browser and opened the next link about the Akatsuki - a news article about the killing of several prominent businessmen. Apparently, their families had been beheaded before their very eyes and then the businessmen had been left to bleed to death. Akatsuki involvement was suspected. She read a few more news articles: blackmail, torture, kidnapping, bombing, destruction and soaring profits. Feeling sick to her stomach, Sakura closed the website before slamming her laptop shut. She half-ran across her apartment, wanting to be as far away from the offensive material as possible. Her food was cooked, but suddenly she wasn't hungry despite her gruelling workout. She felt sick.

She glanced out the kitchen window again. There was definitely a fire: she could see the bright flames downtown growing out of control. She heard sirens as emergency vehicles rushed towards the scene. She wasn't quite sure where it was and her initial panicked thoughts had been for the dojo. What if Akatsuki had tried to burn it down? But no, that was impossible – her gym was further north than the fire. Besides, all she had done was refused to work for them. She had given Akatsuki no reason to attack her.

Sakura paced her apartment, her brow furrowed. Her dinner lay untouched, still in the pan on the counter. The scent that was normally appetising was making her feel sick so she roughly tipped it, uneaten, into the trash before chucking the pan in the sink. She looked out the kitchen window again. The fire was still raging on across town, despite the efforts of the fire brigade. It was huge, she reckoned it was probably enough to destroy a building. She heard sirens again as more fire crews were called in.

Something about that fire bothered her. The evening air was too moist for it to have started by itself. It had rained earlier, which meant wooden buildings would still be slightly damp and concrete did not burn that quickly. It was nowhere near the major industrial area and there weren’t even any factories nearby. She supposed a fire could have started after an accident, or a car could have caught fire, but there was no way flames would have spread that quickly across wet concrete. It couldn't even be explained by negligence, Sakura knew that two weeks ago the gasworks had been repaired downtown - the roads had been closed and she had had to take a different route to work. Arson was the only possible explanation, and a fire that size wasn't caused by kids messing about. It would have to have been premeditated; a building doused in gallons of petrol before being set alight.

Her first thought was Akatsuki. Having read their website and the news reports, she knew that this kind of behaviour was not something they were above. And Itachi Uchiha, the oh-so-respectful man from earlier - she could well imagine him torching a building, working quickly with his face set, his eyes cold.

She had to know details. She reached for the remote, tuning it until she reached the city news. A few minutes into the programme there was a report on the fire, it was suspected to be deliberate, a huge team of fire-fighters faced a long battle into the night to control the blaze in the business district. There were no clues as to how the fire had been started or who was involved. Sakura snapped off the TV. She had heard enough. It was arson, as she has suspected. From her view out the window, the fire didn't seem to be showing any signs of abating.

A thought occurred to her suddenly and her heart skipped a beat. There could be innocent people in the burning building, innocent people whose lives would be lost as they burned to cinders in the fire. She knew then that she could never be a part of an organisation that did that, no matter how much they bribed and threatened her. She wouldn’t work for them, she wouldn’t fight for them at the Cave – she would find another way. 

She stared a few minutes longer at the blaze before turning her back. Her mind was made up. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a sudden movement out the window. It appeared someone was scaling the fire escape. Her heart in her mouth, she pulled her ceremonial katana down from its bracket on the wall - it was a family heirloom - and picked up the baseball bat she kept near her door. She crept silently out of her apartment through the balcony door, and leapt nimbly onto the railings. She twisted and swung both weapons in a full circle then assumed a defensive half-crouch, balancing carefully.

Nobody. Not even a sound. She couldn't see a soul on the dark roof. It then occurred to her that if anybody was after her they were likely to be hardened gangsters, adept at concealing themselves and packing an arsenal of semi-automatics. They were not going to be remotely intimidated by a lone girl with a few martial arts skills, an ornamental sword and a sports bat. Feeling more than a little silly, she briefly glanced around the roof of the apartment complex once more before she stashed her katana and silently leapt back down on to her balcony.

There was nothing for it but to go to bed. The monsters she was barely conscious of having in her life would haunt her nightmares, waging war on the decent people of the world but she had to at least try to get some rest. She double checked her doors and windows and changed out of her clothes, before slipping between her sheets. When she reached for the light switch, her eyes rested, as they always did on the photo frame on her bedside table. It showed a younger Sakura in the company of a blonde boy of a similar age, his blue eyes shining. Both children were smiling broadly. Tucked into the bottom corner of the frame, a smaller photo depicted the boy, now a handsome young man with a cautious, imposing expression on his fine features.

Sakura sighed. It was Naruto, of course, her childhood best friend. They'd signed the lease on the dojo together, but he'd suddenly disappeared soon after their first pro season. She thought of him often but the two had not seen each other for nearly a year. She wondered, as she always did, what he was doing now. She clicked her light off and as she rested her head on her pillow, she prayed that he had not been sucked into the Akastuski's web of evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter. I hope you are enjoying the story. Thank you for all your reviews, they make me happy inside. 
> 
> Just for fun, here's a few questions for you... ;)
> 
> What does Itachi want with her?  
> Who do you think is paying Sakura to fight?  
> Who is it on her balcony? 
> 
> All shall be revealed in due course....


	4. Assistance

Sakura had slept badly. When her alarm rang she was almost relieved to get out of bed. Her dreams had been filled with visions of Akatsuki, suspicious individuals shrouded in black wielding sniper rifles, blazing fires and, for some reason, sexy thoughts of Gaara. More than once she had awoken, sweating and shaking with her heart pounding in her chest. Her hair was tousled from tossing and turning all night and she already had dark circles under her eyes. She slipped on her robe and padded barefoot to the kitchen, where the first thing she did was switch on her coffee maker, as usual.

While she sipped strong coffee, she turned on the TV for the morning news. She glanced out the window during the traffic report and saw that last night's fire had been put out. There was a trail of smoke drifting towards the sky and when she opened the window she noticed a faint burnt smell. The newscaster began an announcement about the fire. It was confirmed arson. The building in question had been a dojo.

Hearing this, Sakura almost dropped her coffee cup. A dojo! Her thoughts immediately went to her own, but hers was not in that part of the city. Still, her mind raced. It could easily have been hers and she suspected Akatsuki to have been behind it. What if they had made a mistake and had meant to burn her place? No, that was ridiculous – serious crime syndicates did not make mistakes. What if it was a warning to her and if she didn't join they'd burn hers too? She shook these thoughts from her mind and turned off the radio. She was being paranoid again, just like last night on the fire escape.

She washed up her breakfast things before showering quickly and dressing for work. She wore shorts under longer track pants and a sports bra with a hoody over it. She fixed her hair then grabbed her purse and car keys, locking her apartment and double-checking it. She stopped by the bank on her way to work to deposit the cash. Her account balance was looking healthier and she felt a small weight slide off her shoulders.

At work, she looked at her schedule. It was the busiest day of the week. She had three kids’ classes to teach in the morning. Teaching children was enjoyable, Sakura found, mainly because they reminded her of Naruto. She had fun making up games for them to keep them interested in their training. Unlike a lot of older martial arts practitioners, they had a youthful enthusiasm for the sport that translated into fun. Plus, at the moment, she earned most of her money from teaching children, as Akatsuki had apparently scared off her adult customers.

For the first time, however, Sakura was glad that she was teaching low skill-level techniques because anything more strenuous would have exhausted her. Having had so little sleep the night before and constantly worrying about Akatsuki, she was not feeling her best.

It was rising noon and her last class was almost over. The parents of her pupils were waiting around the door, while Sakura organised a game which involved all fifteen or so screaming, delighted seven year olds attacking her at once, using the techniques she had taught them so far. The parents watched in joy, glad their children were having fun with the formerly famous Cherry Blossom. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she noticed someone with red hair standing behind one of the mothers. He had his back to her, but if it was who she thought it was… Sakura pretended to be defeated by the onslaught of children quicker than she might usually have done and dismissed the class.

As the children filed out with their parents, Gaara approached her. What the hell was he doing here? Was he intent on stalking her life? He was dressed in black, with a long maroon coat, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He brought with him a slight smell of burning. His posture was calm and confident, but his crumpled collar and hastily pushed up sleeves suggested he hadn't just been sitting in an office. She never did ask what he did for a living. His tousled hair, the swelling on his cheek that would probably form a bruise tomorrow and the large smudge of blood drying by his left elbow indicated he had been engaged in a rather violent morning. There was the slight bulge of a handgun at his waist (either that or he was pleased to see her, Sakura joked to herself). Judging by the black circles under his eyes he had obviously had an even worse night's sleep than she had - an insomniac, perhaps?

She continued taking him in, analysing him properly as he crossed the room. When she had met him at the bar she had only seen a good-looking face, a cheeky smile and a nice body. Now she had seen him fight, she took in his smooth movements and his quiet step on the floor. He'd obviously been fighting in his street clothes last night or this morning. Something about him suggested that he was involved in some dodgy dealings, but she didn't think he was Akatsuki. Her guess was that he probably ran with a rival gang.

‘Sakura,’ he greeted her. He had his usual smirk on his face and his voice was teasing. Despite how much he had irritated her, she immediately remembered the feel of his lips on hers.  
‘Gaara,’ she replied, matching his tone.  
‘This is a nice little dojo you have here,’ he said conversationally. Sakura was becoming a little tired of hearing those words from people who had clearly not come to admire her facilities.  
‘Thank you. They say it is one of the best in the city,’ she inclined her head.  
‘The best without question now,’ he said, a blank expression on his face, ‘My own burnt down last night.’  
‘I saw it on the news. That was yours?’ she replied. Now she had a face to put to the unnamed victims of the fire, and although she couldn’t be glad that his place had burned down, she wished he would leave before someone noticed him here. Had he been following her? Just how much trouble was this guy going to cause her?

‘I came here today to ask permission to train here. I don’t have the money to pay the fees until my insurance comes through. Perhaps I could work for you and train in my spare time? I thought I’d offer my assistance, at least.’  
‘Your assistance?’ Sakura retorted hotly, ‘What makes you think I'd want that?’  
Gaara nodded. ‘Perhaps you misunderstand me, Sakura. You are in more danger than you realise.’

Sakura swore under her breath. Did he know about Itachi's little visit last night? Was that what that mysterious phone call had been about? _Was_ he Akatsuki? But if he was, why would he want to train here? They probably had their own gyms. Compared to the cold, threatening Itachi Uchiha, Gaara seemed worlds apart. He was rougher, less co-ordinated and definitely not the smooth operator he seemed to think he was. So far all he’d managed to do was run away from her, lose a fight to her, make nonsense phone calls, and hide from her at the grocery store. He was volatile, unpredictable and unsubtle. If this was organised crime, no wonder Akatsuki ran the city.

‘You're not Akatsuki?’ she asked, just to make sure. She cursed herself for the touch of fear she could hear in her voice.  
‘I'd be offended to be lumped with that scum. Does it matter?’ Gaara said. His smile was sarcastic. She longed to wipe it off his face but she wasn't sure if a kiss or a punch would be more appropriate. She was still so attracted to him and she hated it.   
‘Actually, it does matter because they're trying to get me to fight for them. Not that I have any intention of becoming their dog,’ Sakura replied, hoping to get some information out of him. She didn’t tell him about her money worries.  
‘I know,’ he replied, ‘I was following Itachi Uchiha last night. I didn't realise he was going for you. I think they've bugged your office. It’s what they tend to do.’

‘They bugged my office?’ Sakura replied, angry. It must have been while she had left them there to take a shower. She should have known not to leave known gangsters unattended amongst her personal belongings. Stupid mistake. Had she sustained brain damage during the fight at the Cave?  
‘Sakura-chan, I'll get rid of it,’ Gaara replied. There was the smallest trace of a smirk on his lips.  
‘Don't fucking call me that,’ Sakura snapped, more coldly than she'd intended. She looked away and nearly a minute passed in silence. Only Naruto called her that childish honorific.

Sakura glanced at Gaara's face - it was blank again. Another few seconds passed in silence, before he crossed the hall. Sakura didn't follow him. God, she really couldn’t deal with his prickly personality. She hated her desire for him.

Moments later, he reappeared with a bunch of twisted metal and a few trailing wires in his hands. He grinned wryly. Sakura assumed that was the surveillance device Akatsuki had left in her office. What did they want from her? If they wanted her to join them, surely they should be trying to gain her trust, not snooping around behind her back. She was angry and confused. Gaara snapped the device in his bare hands and put in the bin. He removed and pocketed the wires.

‘Gaara, about that night…’ Sakura started, unsure how to continue, ‘I just wanted to…’  
‘Trust me, I've already forgotten about it,’ Gaara said.  
‘That bad, was it?’ Sakura asked,   
‘No, that's not it at all. It was nice… very nice, actually,’ Gaara said intensely. ‘But something came up that night.’  
‘Is that why you ran away?’  
‘Let’s forget it. I didn't know who you were then and it probably shouldn't have happened, all things considered,’ he continued. Back to being cryptic again.  
‘Why?’ she demanded.  
‘Because you're Sakura Haruno. And I’m Gaara,’ he said, as if that was somehow significant.  
‘And that's why we shouldn't have kissed?’ she snapped, ‘That doesn’t even make any sense.’   
‘No, Sakura. You don’t understand…’  
‘Why don’t you just tell me?’  
‘I can’t,’ he said after a pause, ‘I’m trying to protect you.’   
‘Why do you care, anyway? You're the one who left, remember.’ Sakura insisted. She looked at him suspiciously, ‘Are you married or something?’

Gaara shook his head again, laughing as if the idea was ridiculous.   
‘Can we get back to the point? I need a place to train and this dojo is as good as any.’  
‘Who says I want you to train at my dojo?’ she snapped.  
‘Stop being childish, Sakura,’ he said scornfully.  
‘Stop being an asshole, Gaara,’ she matched his tone.

They stared each other down. They had stepped closer during their exchange of heated words and neither broke eye contact. Even as she stared into Gaara's pale green eyes they flashed angrily, before calming slightly and taking on a softer tint. No matter how irritating he could be, Sakura realised she could stare into those eyes for a long time without tiring of them.

Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her delicately. Sakura felt the warmth of his mouth against hers. This was not like the frantic, lusty kisses at the bar; it was softer, more uncertain. Gaara carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and without really intending to, Sakura moved closer to him, deepening the kiss. When they eventually broke apart Sakura stared into his unreadable eyes.  
‘I hope that’s not how you’re planning on paying the membership fees,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Gaara took two steps backwards and turned away from her. He put his hand to his brow and it wasn't for a few seconds that Sakura realised he was laughing silently.  
  
‘I can’t work you out at all. That’s the first thing you thought of just now? Wow, Sakura, you’re really not how I expected.’   
Sakura was about to demand exactly what it was he expected from her, but Gaara continued.  
‘Would you really have hit me with a fake sword last night?’ he laughed. Sakura fixed him with a withering glare, unimpressed by his games, ‘Or was it a baseball bat?’ he continued, still smirking.   
‘What the _fuck,’_ she spat, ‘Were you doing on my balcony?’ God, she was annoyed. What gave him the right to do any of that?  
‘I told you, didn't I?’ he replied lightly, ‘You're in danger.’  
‘So will you be if you don't watch it! You get one chance, asshole,’ she snarled. She couldn't believe she had just kissed him. She curled her fist into a tight ball, digging her nails into her palm. Gaara closed a hand over hers – a gentle gesture but one that essentially prevented her from lashing out at him. He wasn't remotely fazed by her displays of temper and tough talk, Sakura realised. He was treating her like an overindulged child.

And he was still smirking. Oh, he made her so mad.  
‘Calm down,’ he said soothingly but the smirk had not left his eyes.  
She snatched herself from his grasp and stormed out of the room. She returned with some cleaning supplies and threw them at his feet. If he was going to irritate her that much he could damn well make himself useful.  
‘You said you wanted a job, now get mopping.’

She left for the office and spent the rest of the day seething as she did paperwork, until one of her student's parents popped in to deliver a much-needed check. The mother made a comment about the man cleaning the windows with a face like thunder. So Gaara was sulking now, was he? Maybe she got under his skin just as much as he got under hers.

Sakura sighed as she checked her spreadsheets. She could finally approve some of her overdue payments, which was the only thing keeping her going. She was exhausted and fed up with her lot in life. A few more rough months and she’d be evicted from her apartment. She was a high school dropout with no family to speak of. She had always lived in the shadow of those around her, particularly Naruto. Now Naruto was missing, Sasuke had dumped her, she was in debt and had lost the one thing she loved – her professional fighting career. On top of that, since she’d taken the fight at the Cave, she’d lost her integrity as well. She literally had nothing left to lose. Was this what Akatsuki wanted? To back her into a corner until she had no choice but to be a pawn in their game?

That explained Akatsuki's interest near enough, but what about Gaara? He was a mystery to her – extremely attractive but a total pain in the ass. She could take his story at face value - that his dojo had burnt down and he needed somewhere to train but something seemed off. He’d obviously been following her and he’d told her she was in danger but she didn't know whether to trust him or not. Still, she had to find out all she could. She had to swallow her pride and any feelings she definitely didn't have for Gaara and make amends.

Sakura left her office and found Gaara cleaning the showers in the deserted men's changing rooms. She had to admit, he was a good worker. The normally pristine gym was looking exceptionally immaculate, even by Sakura's high standards. She told him to take a break and led him into her office.

‘What do you know about Akatsuki?’ she demanded.  
‘What do _you_ know about them?’ Gaara countered in the same tone. His red hair was tousled from his day spent fighting and cleaning. He had abandoned his coat and taken off his shirt and was now wearing a black wife-beater although that too was crumpled now. Sakura hadn't noticed it before but there was a small tattoo on his shoulder. It looked like the number 1. The smudge of blood by his left elbow was still there too, although it was dry now and he didn't seem to have noticed it. It bothered her because she didn't think it was his own blood.

The pair stared each other down, neither giving an inch. They let their questions hang unanswered in the air. Sakura was burning with curiosity but she wasn't about to give in. Gaara had evoked a stubbornness in her. Some things about his story didn't add up. She thought it was a little strange that a renowned fighting champion would debase himself into scrubbing the toilets in someone else's dojo without payment.

‘Fine,’ Gaara snapped, breaking the cold silence ‘You don't have to trust me and I don't have to trust you. But I'm not going anywhere Sakura-chan and it would _really_ be in your best interests to do what I say.’ He spat the childish honorific as if it were a swearword. Sakura gritted her teeth with anger. She had already told him not to call her that.

Maybe he was being territorial. Gaara seemed to hate Akatsuki and that hatred could only come from deep rivalry. This was personal. Even though they didn't exactly owe each other anything, Gaara had taken interest in her first and he wasn't going to lose to any of the Akatsuki. _That_ must be the reason for him being here today.

She wasn't going to let him intimidate her. If he thought it was acceptable to speak to her like that then she was just going to be icily polite and keep things strictly professional. If he said he wasn't going to go anywhere, she could at least get the repairs done for free. Meanwhile, he could keep his bad attitude and just thank his lucky stars he didn't get to see her temper. She had enough on her plate with Akatsuki sniffing around, without having to deal with a tetchy cage fighter with an attitude problem.

‘Understood, Gaara,’ she replied sweetly, ‘Now wash the blood off your arm.’   
Gaara didn’t break eye contact. He licked his finger and began rubbing his arm, all the while staring at her. _Creep_.

The two didn't speak for the remainder of the afternoon as they began to train. Sakura warmed up by jogging and sprinting the length of the dojo and lifted weights to maintain her strength. She worked on her technique on the mat before finally taking all her anger out on the punch bag. It would have been good to spar now that she had a training partner of sorts but Sakura was quite happy to leave that to another day.

Exhausted, Sakura finally finished her training not long after sundown. She mopped her brow and drank deeply from her water bottle. Gaara was sitting on the mat, freshly showered and dressed in his shirt and coat again. Sakura nodded to him on her way to the women's changing rooms. She was suddenly conscious of his appreciative eye on her body as she walked past him. He made no attempt to hide it and she felt herself blushing. She wasn't sure whether she preferred his flirtatious side from the bar or the angry, sarcastic one who had turned up in her dojo.

Sakura locked up and walked with Gaara to the parking lot. She unlocked her car before tossing her bag onto the passenger seat. Before she could stop him, Gaara got into her car and started fiddling with the dashboard and radio. He felt across the ceiling and under the seats. He pulled up the cushions in the backseats, got out the car and checked in the boot and under the hood as well, before prostrating himself on the ground to poke around underneath the vehicle.   
‘I don’t know much about cars,’ he said, getting to his feet and brushing himself off, ‘So don’t go anywhere you don’t want to be followed.’

Sakura laughed. She only really went to the dojo, to the grocery store and to her apartment – and if they were sending her business cards, Akatsuki already knew her address. As did Gaara. He nodded and allowed Sakura to get back in her car. She pulled out of the parking lot and gave him a wave he did not return.

As far as she could see, the situation with Gaara did not improve things at all. First, she had Akatsuki who wanted her to join their dangerous criminal brethren. That she could cope with, just about. It was after all, her ex's family behind the biggest crime syndicate in this part of the world, despite the fact that she was scared and disgusted by them. She didn't exactly appreciate their tactics of bugging her office.

Gaara however, was different. Judging from the news reports she'd read the day before, she was sure Akatsuki had plenty of enemies. When he showed up he had said she was in danger. Had that been a sick joke or a warning? His hatred for Akatsuki was evident in Sakura's view but that did not explain what the hell he wanted with her. She was wary that she was starting to enjoy his attention.

When she was home Sakura locked and bolted all her doors, careful to keep out all unwanted intruders. She was suddenly caught up in a dubious world of crime, gangs and murder. The underworld that had previously been a figment of bad television programmes now seemed like a very real part of her life. Sakura had no idea who to trust.

For now though, she was starving and exhausted. She cooked herself some food and tried to ignore the gunshots she could hear echoing across the city. She thought of Gaara with his handgun in his pocket and blood down his arm. Was that how he spent his evenings? She thought of Itachi Uchiha, excessively polite yet steely cold. She could picture him blasting off rounds with the same expressionless look in his eyes.

Sakura was scared. If she had been the type of girl who cried, she was sure she would be in tears right now. Instead, she kept calm and allowed numbness to fill her core. She was terrified and confused and she suddenly felt very small. Sakura wolfed down her dinner and double-checked her doors and windows. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up under her covers and hope she would soon wake up from the nightmare her life had become.

Once settled in bed, Sakura reached over to look at her photos of Naruto. If only she knew where he was, he would be able to help her sort out this mess. Naruto would know exactly what to do: he'd kick Gaara's ass and the whole of the Akatsuki's collective asses and then come back grinning all over his face, like he did when they were children. Sakura looked at the photo, expecting to see Naruto's grinning face. Instead her heart froze when she saw it. Tucked into the top corner of the frame was a black business card. It had a red cloud pattern on it, which Sakura instantly recognised as the emblem of the Akatsuki.

It had definitely not been there last night. Sakura fought the urge to scream. Cold dread was creeping all over her body. They had been here. They had got in somehow, and Sakura knew her security was tight. The doors were locked, no windows had been smashed – she didn't dare speculate how they'd entered. She was no longer safe in her own home. Although she was practically paralysed with fear, Sakura reached for the business card. She half-expected it to be blank and acting only as a shock tactic, to show her Akatsuki's power.

She turned it over and revealed the name: Itachi Uchiha, followed by a phone number. ‘Call me’ he had written in neat cursive script. Sakura leapt out of bed and ran to the kitchen, sweeping piles of paperwork off the island until she found what she was looking for. The business card that had been in the envelope with the cash.

She laid the two on the counter to compare them. Itachi’s business cards had a shiny red cloud on a matte black background, made out of high quality card. He’d obviously paid a graphic designer a good price for them.

The other business card was made of cheaper paper and was blank apart from the writing ‘Too proud for 25%???’ with a sad smiley drawn under it. The writing was childlike, almost scrawled. Itachi’s writing was fancy cursive. They couldn’t be from the same person. Itachi Uchiha was not the kind of person to use emojis.

If Itachi Uchiha wanted her to call him there were better ways of making it happen than breaking into her apartment. Sakura was angry and scared. This was exactly what Uchiha would have wanted. She could picture his thought processes: he hoped she would be scared, confused and demanding answers, and a business card with a contact number that would provide those answers would seem like a godsend. Leaving the cell number was a trap.

She had no intention of ringing him. Still, she retrieved her cell phone and programmed in the new contact. She flicked through her phonebook. She now had Gaara and Itachi Uchiha both saved, though she had no real desire to speak to either of them. In fact, the only person she did want to speak to, the grinning golden-haired troublemaker who could magically make all her problems go away, she didn't have a contact number for.

Sakura rolled over and through her sheer exhaustion, slipped into an uneasy sleep. As she dozed fitfully, she was unaware of the commotions in the criminal underworld and the eyes watching her every move from across the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. I hope that everyone is keeping safe from the Coronavirus. Things are looking pretty bad in my country now, and I'm feeling quite depressed about it. 
> 
> At least in quarantine I have plenty of time for my writing. I hope you are enjoying the story!


	5. How About Dinner?

Sakura could hardly sleep that night, nor the night after. She barely spent any time in her apartment, returning only to pick up fresh clothes and try to rest. Exhausted from lack of sleep and barely eating, Sakura spent most of her time at the dojo. She was beginning to fall into a sort of routine with Gaara. The vicious words they had been throwing at each other mellowed into bickering and easy banter.

It didn’t make things easier for her though. Six days after she had met Itachi Uchiha, fear was beginning to take over. On the seventh morning, she woke before her alarm after another night of fitful sleep. Her nightmares were seeping into her regular life.

She padded barefoot to her kitchen and as usual, the first thing she did was switch on the coffee maker. She jumped back as if she had been shocked. Propped up against the coffee machine was a sleek black business card. It had red clouds on it, just like the first. Gingerly, she picked it up and turned it over.  
It said 'how about dinner?' in neat cursive script, followed by Itachi’s number.

Sakura took several deep breaths. She could feel her heart racing but she forced herself to stay calm. Running on icy adrenaline, she checked her kitchen window: locked and impregnable from the outside. She raced to her front door and yanked on the handle. It too was locked. Every door and window in her apartment received a similar treatment, and every single one was securely locked. With a cold sweat forming on her skin, Sakura returned to her kitchen to scrutinise the business card for more clues.

How did he get in? She tore at her hair as her mind went over and over the possibilities. Sakura was observant and usually good at working out puzzles like these. Unless she was missing the glaringly obvious, she could see no possible way for someone to enter. Yet the evidence was there – the stark black of the business card standing out against her white kitchen counter. He’d been there, sneaking around in her home, while she slept in the next room. Fear sliced her heart like a knife.

There had been three cards in total; one in the post and two that had been left around the apartment: the first a regular professionally printed card of the sort that Uchiha probably gave out to acquaintances and business partners daily, the second to which he had added the words 'call me': an instruction. And now this dinner invitation. He had to be on glue if he thought she was going to call him.

He had neat handwriting, Sakura noticed, but that didn't tell her anything. Where they'd been left did tell her that not only were they able to get in to her home but that they were watching her round the clock. The first was in the photo frame by her bed, the one she looked at every night. The second was by her coffee maker, which she used every morning. They knew her daily routine. They were watching her every move. Waves of nausea hit her and she steadied herself against the counter.

She couldn't stay here. She rushed round her apartment, franticly gathering the things she would need; a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, her cell phone charger and her photo of Naruto. She flung them into a bag and as an afterthought she slid Itachi’s business cards into her wallet. She grabbed her purse and her overnight bag before locking her apartment and driving to the dojo. She was tempted to make a detour to throw them off her trail but it would be pointless. They knew everything.

She arrived early so she had time to get coffee and a breakfast she felt too nauseous to eat before any of her clients arrived. The mornings used to be the busiest times for people training before going to work. Today, the dojo was at quarter capacity as her regulars worked out. Yet again, there were a few more missing faces. She used to be over-subscribed. There used to be a waiting list of aspiring pros, prepared to spend serious money to train with Sakura ‘The Cherry Blossom’ Haruno and Naruto ‘The Fire Shadow’ Uzumaki. Now she was operating a glorified community centre. A few of her loyal regulars asked her for tips but Sakura was barely paying attention. She was too tired. The children's class wore out the last of her energy. After the kids had gone, she had a bit of a break before the women’s over-fifties self-defence class came in. She enjoyed teaching that class, it was important that older women had self-defence skills in this dangerous city but…. she longed for the adrenaline of a real, legit fight, longed to hold a cup or title belt above her head, the deafening applause of the crowd ringing in her ears.

She sat in her office and tried to relax. She went over her options, thinking of where she could hide or how she could outsmart Akatsuki. She could drive far away, out of the city or even leave the country. But they'd find her, she reasoned. She was stumped and her head felt heavy. It was warm and quiet in her office and her chair was so comfy. If she just leaned her head back…just for a few minutes….

There was a clink of a plate against her desk and Sakura started. Her neck was stiff and she felt groggy.  
‘You're tired,’ she heard a man's voice say, ‘I got you lunch.’  
Sakura blinked and opened her eyes. Gaara was looking at her with concern, holding his own meal. He put a cup of tea in front of her. After a sip of the warm liquid she felt slightly better.  
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘How long was I asleep for?’ She stretched her arms above her head and allowed her spine to crack.  
‘You were asleep when I got in around noon and it's nearly two now,’ Gaara answered.  
Sakura swore. ‘The women's class! It was supposed to be at twelve!’  
‘It's okay, I taught it. The ladies seemed very grateful,’ Gaara said soothingly. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief. She grinned to herself. She bet the old ladies were grateful, they loved to gossip and being taught by a hot young man would set their tongues wagging.

‘Sakura,’ Gaara began carefully, ‘Is something bothering you?’ He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, ‘It's not Akatsuki, is it? You would tell me if they were trying to contact you, wouldn't you?’  
It _was_ Akatsuki, but Sakura wasn't about to tell him that.  
‘Why are you being nice to me?’ Sakura asked. Gaara's moods seemed to change like the wind. One moment he was defensive and the next he was bringing her lunch, trying to show a caring side.  
‘You're scared,’ Gaara answered, ‘And you're in danger. I’m trying to protect you.’  
‘I'm fine,’ Sakura lied. Gaara paused for a long while, his teal eyes fixing her with a hard stare.  
  
‘I know you’re lying, Sakura. Your phone rang while you were asleep,’ he said eventually, ‘It was Itachi Uchiha. He wanted to know why you hadn’t accepted his dinner invitation.’  
Sakura sat back in her chair and exhaled loudly, lifting her fringe. What could she say to that?  
‘What the hell, Gaara? Why were you going through my phone?’  
‘I saw the caller ID. Sorry for trying to keep you safe!” he said sarcastically.  
Sakura sighed. She took the business card with ‘how about dinner?’ written on it out of her wallet. She failed to mention that he had broken into her apartment to leave it for her. Twice.  
‘I was going to tell you…. But I didn’t know how,’ Sakura handed over the business card, ‘Itachi sent me this.’

‘Oh, so you’re on first name terms with him now, are you?’ he demanded, turning the business card over in his hands.  
‘It’s just dinner. Is that going to be a problem for you?’ Sakura said coolly.  
‘It’s dangerous.’ Gaara was barely hiding his anger.  
‘What could he possibly do to me in a restaurant. Anyway, I never said I’d go, did I? Why are you being like this, Gaara?’ she rose her voice, reacting to his harsh words.  
‘Maybe it’s because I don’t want you to go,’ he snapped.  
‘You don’t want me to go,’ Sakura repeated deadpan.  
‘There, I said it. I don’t want you to go on a dinner date with Itachi fucking Uchiha. I don’t want you to go out with fucking anybody.’  
He ripped the business card into pieces and threw them on her desk. Then he chucked his uneaten food away and stormed out of the room, slamming the door. Close to tears, Sakura stared down at the lunch he’d bought her. She felt sick again. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with _her_? She tossed the food in the trash, where it fell on top Gaara’s own discarded plate.

She couldn’t hide in the office forever so the two worked solidly through the afternoon in frosty silence. Sakura longed to reach out and trust Gaara, to tell him how frightened she was. But she had only scratched the surface of the criminal underworld and she had no idea who she could confide in. She was in such a difficult position. She wanted to talk to Gaara but she didn't know him well enough to trust him. Ok, he wasn’t Akatsuki but he was definitely involved with something dangerous. What side was he on? What were his motives?

She wondered what he did when he wasn't at her dojo. She decided he must keep very odd hours: more than once she had received a text from him in the early hours of the morning yet every day he turned up to work around midday. Sakura initially wondered if he worked another job until noon, but when she asked him what he usually did in the mornings, he replied that he tried to sleep, with a wry smile. That was something she definitely hadn't expected: a lazy young man who slept late on a morning.

There was the question of the car he drove. As far as she could tell, Gaara seemed to own a fleet of identical black Mercedes S-classes. She knew there were at least two, as she had identified two different number plates and suspected there to be a third. Could a person who drove those kinds of cars really not afford to pay for a gym membership? Little inconsistencies like these niggled at her and the more she thought of them, the less inclined she was to take Gaara's story at face value.

Then there was his temper. His fit of anger over Itachi’s phone call and the business card. All the times he flew off the handle. His attitude was aggressive and his moods were unpredictable. He was pure, raw emotion. All of this was a matter of potential life or death, Sakura realised grimly and she couldn’t compromise her own safety. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t believe him. But something about him was so exciting, so _familiar_. She hated to admit it to herself, but she felt safer with him around.

The pair sparred when the activity in the dojo died down. Like most days, they trained together. When they fought, Sakura found it challenging. For the first time since retiring professionally she found herself improving. Occasionally Gaara let her win but most of the time he beat her easily. Sparring with a man was completely different to a female fighter. They used similar techniques, and Sakura was perhaps a little faster, but Gaara’s superior strength overpowered her time after time. He barely had to work at it to have her on the floor tapping out. This provided her with a goal to strive towards: to become better than Gaara. She looked forward to their daily training sessions to see if she had improved against his techniques. She pushed herself harder than ever to try and get the upper hand.

The contact was another reason Sakura relished her training sessions with Gaara. While they continually butted heads verbally, the sexual tension sparked in the air between them. The night at the bar replayed in Sakura's memory, and getting hot and sweaty with him on the mat wasn’t helping her overactive imagination. With his muscles enhanced by a light sheen of sweat coupled with his tousled hair and concentrated expression, Sakura was unable to deny the attraction she continued to feel towards him. She breathed deeply whenever she caught herself thinking this way. She didn't exactly have room in her head to deal with feelings for anyone at the moment. Her life was in danger and she was wasting time dreaming up sexual fantasies. She was being very silly, she decided – if she couldn't bring herself to trust Gaara, she could hardly justify lusting after him.

The argument over the business card apparently forgotten, Gaara waited for her to finish up in the women’s room. He was already dressed in his street clothes, hair shower-wet and tousled, gun at his hip and jacket open.

Sakura waved goodbye to him in the parking lot as she walked towards her car but he grabbed her by the wrist and propelled her towards his black Merc. He opened the passenger side door and all but pushed her in.  
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sakura shouted. Gaara started the engine and turned to face her.  
‘You seriously think I’m going to let you out of my sight now I know Itachi Uchiha has been pulling moves on you?’ he said with a harsh, dry laugh. He pulled off the lot with one hand on the wheel, driving with fast swerves.

‘Where are we going? What about my car?’ Sakura demanded as Gaara merged on the highway, cutting someone off.  
‘Where do you want to go?’ Gaara stared at her intently, his voice flirtatious. He gave her one of his infuriating winks.  
‘Home. Alone. In my own damn car,’ Sakura snapped. She turned away from him and stared out the window, silently fuming.  
‘You sure? I could take you to a movie or something?’ he said, laughing. She couldn’t decide whether he was deliberately trying to annoy her or if he just had no social skills whatsoever. Either way, she was mad.  
‘You want to go to a movie?’ she said incredulously, ‘Akatsuki’s after me, my friends are disappearing one by one, I had to fight at the Cave to make rent this month, and you’re asking me if I want to go to a _movie_?’   
‘Why not? Can’t be worse than dinner with Itachi Uchiha, can it?’ He was still teasing, ‘Would you prefer action or romance?’  
‘I’d prefer not to have this conversation.’  
‘Suit yourself,’ Gaara didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. He took the turning towards her neighbourhood without her directing him. Of course he knew where she lived. He’d been climbing on her balcony last week.

Gaara parked the Mercedes and took a few steps away from Sakura to make a phone call. Oh, so it was ok for him to go through her phone, was it, while he got to take his calls in private? She stomped into her building, but Gaara caught her at the elevator.  
‘What about my car?’ she demanded.  
‘I’ll sort it. It’ll take about twenty minutes. I’ll bring takeout. Is Thai ok?’

So he was apparently inviting himself for the evening. Sakura must have been totally exhausted because she found herself agreeing. In her apartment, she leant against the door for a few seconds, sighing, before kicking herself into action. He would be back in twenty minutes. Just enough time to tidy up. Sakura wasn’t exactly messy, but there were certain aspects she didn’t want Gaara to see. Like her underwear drying by the radiator, or the pile of dishes in the sink. She finished her cleaning and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wasn’t hideous but she could certainly use a touch-up. As she applied her makeup she found herself shaking her head. Gaara had seen her in some states at the dojo –dirty, sweaty, with messy hair and bruises everywhere. So why was she bothering with makeup now? 

It wasn’t something that went unnoticed when Gaara knocked on her door twenty minutes or so later, dangling a steaming bag of takeout from his fingers.  
‘Nice lipstick,’ he smirked, letting himself in as if he owned the place. He put the bag of food down on the counter and tossed her her car keys. ‘Kind of makes me want to kiss it all off.’

Sakura caught her keys and turned as red as her tinted lips. He was right here, in her apartment, telling her he wanted to kiss her. A few weeks ago, she would have given anything to be in that situation. But now? Now it was just another one of those irritating, confusing things Gaara liked to say.  
‘You can’t say those kind of things,’ she said at last, under her breath  
‘Why not? Just because I want to, doesn’t mean I’m going to, does it?’ he said casually, opening cupboards to find plates. He was back to making no sense whatsoever.  
‘Why do you care, anyway?’ he continued, ‘I thought you wanted to go to dinner with Itachi Uchiha.’

She rolled her eyes. Unaffected, he shoved a plate of food towards her.  
‘I hope you’re going to eat it this time and not throw it away.’  
‘You threw your lunch in the bin too!’ Sakura retorted hotly.  
‘Yes. Which is why I’m eating now.’ He speared a shrimp and made a big show of putting it in his mouth.

‘You’re not cute, you know that, right?’ Sakura said. She made a point of eating her dinner in complete silence, not even sparing Gaara a glance. Once she was finished he took her plate and washed up the dinner things, putting them back in the wrong places. He hung his coat up on the back of the door and placed his gun on the coffee table. She hated how he’d just made himself at home.

‘You know, it’s not very big, is it?’ said Gaara, gesturing around him vaguely, ‘Your apartment I mean.’  
‘Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting a mansion?’ Sakura said stiffly, ‘If you don’t like it, you could always just go home.’  
‘So that Itachi Uchiha can come and try his luck again?’ Gaara scoffed, ‘I told you. I’m trying to protect you.’  
  
Sakura sighed and flopped on the couch, leaving Gaara tidying up the kitchen.  
‘It’s just, I expected it’d be bigger. You know, after all those matches you won, you must have made a tidy sum. You were a big name – what about sponsorships, product tie-ins… I’m just saying, it’s weird that you’re struggling for money…’ he looked at her significantly, a dishrag over his shoulder.   
‘I don’t think my finances are any of your damn business, Gaara,’ Sakura said icily. She reached for the remote, turning on a programme at random.  
‘I’ve never seen your dojo full, either,’ Gaara continued over the sound of the TV. ‘Before I turned up, you couldn’t even get the repairs done. I think you’re in much deeper trouble than you’re telling me. People don’t tend to fight in the Cave unless they’ve got a death wish or a debt to pay…’ 

He was leaning over her, their faces inches apart as he prised the remote from her hand and zapped it off. He brushed a pink lock back from her face.  
‘So, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or am I going to have to guess?’  
He twisted the strand of hair in his fingers before running a thumb down her jawline. Sakura’s heart raced. He was so close. She could hear his relaxed breathing, see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He fixed her with his eyes – a hard stare that eventually softened but didn’t lose its intensity. When she tried to look away, he held her by the chin forcing her to maintain eye contact.

‘I don’t know if I can trust you,’ she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.  
‘I’m your best option. Your fairy fucking godmother,’ he pressed his forehead against hers, kneeling down in front of her. He linked his fingers through the back of her hair. Still Sakura said nothing. Her heart picked up in sharp palpitations. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek, she could smell his clean, spicy scent. It was intoxicating. She closed her eyes for a second, just to take in her senses, to breathe him in. When she opened them, his gaze was on hers, his eyes burning. 

Their lips met. The kiss was exhilarating, almost frenetic. The tension between them was released like a levy breaking. She pulled him closer to him, wanting to memorise every aspect of his face, wanting to consume him.  
‘I can’t work you out, Sakura,’ he growled, his voice thick with desire, ‘You get under my skin. You do things to me.’  
Sakura was well-versed on the workings of the male anatomy, but that wasn’t what Gaara meant.  
‘I’m acting like a crazy man. Throwing things, storming out of rooms… I do not do that kind of shit. Not for anybody. I get my job done. No sentiments. No questions. No entanglements.’

He stared at her, letting the implications of what he was saying sink in. Sakura looked away, unable to meet his icy gaze.  
‘But you… there’s something about you Sakura. And knowing you’re in danger – I can’t stand it.’  
‘What is your job, Gaara?’ Sakura asked softly, fearful of the answer.  
‘I can’t tell you. I can’t put you at risk. I’m already breaking all the rules here as it is.’  
‘Right, so you expect me to trust you fully while you keep all your secrets?’ She was angry again. She immediately put distance between them and snatched her hand away from his grasp. He clung to her wrist momentarily before letting it slide. He leant back on the couch, his hands tearing at his hair, sighing loudly.  
‘You know what, I really fucking wish I hadn’t met you. Things would be so much easier.’

‘You’re right! I should have known you were trouble the moment you ran out of that bar,’ Sakura spat back, hurt. Gaara shook his head and exhaled loudly. Putting emotional and physical distance between them, he opened the balcony door. From her seat on the couch, Sakura watched him lean on the railings, staring into the night sky. She felt the breeze come in through the open door. It was calming her, softly blowing all the heated emotions from their argument away. The city was quieting down. Businesses were closing for the night, traffic was thinning out on the roads. The citizens were going home, or eating dinner or going to bed. 

But in gang world, the night was just beginning. Sakura started when she heard the first gunshots. She stared at Gaara’s gun on the coffee table in front of her. It was the first time she’d seen one so close up. She wondered how many times he’d loaded that weapon and pointed it an enemy, another man with a gun, another human being.

Gaara looked back over his shoulder, and came back into the room. He left the balcony door open.  
‘Is that your lot out there? Shooting, I mean,’ Sakura asked.  
‘Most probably,’ he replied, joining her on the sofa, ‘We knew Akatsuki would be starting something tonight, so we have to counter.’   
‘Why are they fighting, Gaara?’ she asked. She was ashamed at how small her voice sounded.  
‘Why does anyone do anything? To protect themselves? For revenge? For profit? Everyone has their reasons.’  
‘Why do you do it?’  
‘I used to do it for the thrill of it. It’s how I was brought up... it was all I knew. Now, though…. Now I’m not sure.’ His voice sounded far away. ‘Now I’m not sure about anything,’ he repeated.

Sakura let that sink in. Since she’d met Gaara, she wasn’t sure of anything any more either. She looked at him. He was sitting next to her, hunched over his elbows, his hands clasped in front of him. Tentatively, she reached out for his hand again. He took it and stroked her thumb.  
‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually, ‘I really am trying to keep you safe though. I need you to trust me. Just for a few more days. Then I’ll explain what I can.’  
‘I know,’ she said softly. It was the most open, the most tender they’d been with each other. She rested her head against his shoulder and they sat like that for a few minutes, listening to the occasional burst of gunfire across the city.

Sakura stifled a yawn. Then Gaara had to go and ruin it again.  
‘Go to bed, Sakura. I’ll come and keep you warm, if you want.’  
She rolled her eyes.  
‘You know, a few weeks ago, you would have loved to have me in your bed,’ he smirked.  
‘Dream on, asshole. You take the couch, and consider yourself lucky I’m giving you a blanket.’  
‘It’s ok. I won’t sleep much either way. Try and get some rest,’ he said.

Sakura couldn’t sleep. In the other room, she could hear Gaara pacing the length of her apartment as the gunshots blasted on, long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> More coming soon :D


	6. An Explosive Time

Sakura woke up before her alarm again. Yet another night she hadn’t slept well. As she sat up in bed, she noticed Gaara leaning on the wall next to her bedroom window, staring at her.  
‘You know, it’s kind of creepy to watch people while they’re sleeping,’ she said grumpily.  
‘I was bored. You don’t have any good books, there’s nothing on TV and I don’t know your laptop password,’ he shrugged, as if that was a satisfactory explanation. She couldn’t believe how he’d just made himself at home. She’d been awake minutes and she was already annoyed. She flung on her robe and pushed past him to start the coffee machine and get showered. As she went about her morning she realised the one good thing about Gaara’s little sleepover was that there wasn’t an Akatsuki business card in sight.

‘Where’s my car?’ she demanded, as they reached the parking lot. He’d told her he’d sorted it, but it wasn’t there. Deidara’s motorbike was missing too.  
‘I parked it back at your gym,’ Gaara opened the door of his Mercedes for her, ‘I had one of my associates drive it round, try and throw them off a bit.’  
Sakura was not too impressed to hear that, not least because she didn’t exactly have much spare cash to fill it up.

At the dojo, Sakura sat in her office to catch up on emails and paperwork, while Gaara supervised the regulars’ morning training. If any of her customers had questions about the new recruit, they kept them to themselves. After all, Gaara was a respected fighter – at the Cave and on the pro circuit. Nobody had any reason to suspect his interest in Sakura’s gym was anything but professional. His cover story was that he was still waiting for his insurance to pay up after the accident at his own place. 

For someone who had just had his livelihood destroyed by Akatsuki, Gaara was strangely disinterested in the developments at the burnt-out shell of his dojo. His gym was probably a front through which he could funnel cash. He must make his real money from fights, spying on people and whatever other dodgy shit it was he did with his gang. Either way, it paid well if he could drive a flash Mercedes. No, a _fleet_ of flash Mercedes, Sakura reminded herself of the different number plates. When confronted, Gaara had denied it of course, insisting he just had the one car, which was why Sakura had dropped a hair elastic in the footwell when he’d driven her to work.

It was all turning out to be a total pain in the ass. Why did she have to develop feelings for an emotionally unstable, insomniac criminal who lied about basically everything she asked him? He didn't exactly seem like the dating type, either. No, Gaara’s style was too unpredictable. He was weirdly sexual then openly aggressive, while acting possessive without really communicating anything. It was exhausting. And they weren’t dating. She didn’t really know what they were doing together. Her last hope was that at least he hadn’t killed anyone, but given the way he constantly kept his gun at his side, she couldn’t guarantee that either. Was there even any point asking about it, knowing she wouldn’t get a straight answer?

She tried to push him out of her mind to focus on her spreadsheet, but her phone rang. No caller ID. Of course not. Nobody called her with good news, and these days the bank manager was the least of her worries. She answered cautiously. 

‘I want you back at the Cave.’ It was that smug bastard again, ‘Same price as before but this time you have to win, my little cherry blossom, or maybe a certain blond friend of yours is going to have a bit of an….. _explosive_ time.’  
It sounded like her mysterious benefactor was laughing. Before she could demand an explanation, the line disconnected.

 _Fuck_. As if things could get worse. Sakura buried her head in her hands and swore, cursing every damn thing in her life. She wasn’t even sure what emotion to feel anymore. Fear? Or dread? Or blistering, uncontrollable anger?

She had to go back to that infernal place, or somebody was going to get hurt. Deidara? Naruto? She didn’t have any other friends, let alone blond friends. Was the man on the phone’s vocabulary an allusion to Deidara’s art style?

She longed for simpler times: laughing with Naruto, training hard and fighting hard – early starts and late nights at the gym, working to build their business and a reputation for themselves.

Now she was in this messed-up world of gang warfare. If this was what she was dealing with, she realised with a sickening jolt, she probably wasn’t going to see Naruto again. He’d been missing for a year. He was probably dead. The bastards had probably killed him. She could picture it. That smug-voiced asshole had probably called him, threatened him into fighting at the Cave. Naruto, being Naruto would have refused. He would have gone after them, hot-headed and belligerent. And the enemies were ruthless. They wouldn’t have thought twice about killing him.

It was a child’s dream to think he was somehow coming back for her. She was in this alone. Sakura realised that if she was going to survive, she needed to wise the fuck up. She needed to do everything she could to stay in their favour, or they were going to kill her. And if she didn’t win another brutal dogfight, they were probably going to kill Deidara too.

Deidara was her only friend so to speak. She was already worried about him. She hadn't seen him since the night of her first fight, where he had left quickly to avoid attracting the attention of Itachi Uchiha. His motorbike was never in her building’s car park and there was mail piling up behind his door. He clearly hadn't returned to his apartment. Sakura was damned if she was going to lose another friend. She called him. No answer, yet again. He’d had his number disconnected.

She couldn’t just sit there. She couldn’t run away. The only thing she could do was train, and fight to stay alive.

She printed off a notice saying the dojo was closed for the day. She saw Gaara in the car park, phone pressed to his ear. He was remonstrating forcibly with someone, arguing with wild hand gestures. Seeing her, he cut the call and raised a questioning eyebrow at the note she was sticking on the door.

‘I need you to train me. Hard,’ she said, her tone almost vicious, ‘I have to go back to the Cave. I don’t know what you did last time, how you pulled it off, but I have to win.’  
‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. If you think I’m letting you go back there – ’  
‘I _have_ to, Gaara,’ she hissed, ‘Someone is going to get hurt otherwise.’  
‘ _You’re_ going to get hurt if you do, you stupid girl!’   
‘I know that. That’s why I need you to train me. If I lose, someone’s going to die.’

Gaara looked like he was about to argue again. Then his face hardened, and he lunged at her, full force, killing intent in his eyes. Sakura barely dodged, and on his second blow he knocked her down.  
‘Again,’ she said, dragging herself to her feet. He knocked her down again and again, and each time Sakura was slower to get up. Eventually, breathless and with a split lip, she begged for a time out.

‘Now do you see why it’s a stupid idea?’ Gaara growled.  
‘What choice do I have?’ she asked bitterly. Exhausted, she flopped backwards on the mat, fighting back tears. She was damned if she was going to cry in front of Gaara. She was starting to realise just how lucky she had been that it was him she’d fought the first time. If it wasn’t for him, she’d be dead, or at least in hospital.

She blinked back her tears and struggled to her feet again, signalling him to attack once more.  
‘Don’t push it, Sakura,’ Gaara said, ‘I would hate to hurt you.’  
‘You always hurt me, asshole,’ she hissed, ‘We’re not finished here. I can keep going.’  
Gaara ignored her. He retrieved his mop bucket and disappeared into the changing rooms. It seemed he would literally rather scrub toilets than train with her.  
  
Sakura collapsed back on the mat again, and this time she let the tears fall. It took her a few minutes to realise how pathetic she was being. Lying on the floor crying, giving up whenever things got tough…. she had to follow Naruto’s example. Whether he was dead or alive, she owed him that much. She was lost in thought until her phone rang, again. Deidara had the right idea about disconnecting his number, Sakura thought as Itachi Uchiha’s name flashed up on the screen.  
‘You never called me,’ his stiff voice reproached her, ‘If you had, maybe he wouldn’t have scheduled you another fight. I could have stopped it.’  
‘Who is he? Who’s doing this?’ Sakura asked.  
‘I could still, you know.’  
‘Why? What’s in it for you?’ she demanded suspiciously.  
‘Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your continued survival,’ he said, ‘Call me when you’re prepared to be sensible. I won’t offer again.’  
‘What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about?’  
‘If you persist, I will be coming for you, Sakura. We both know it’s for the best.’  
He hung up. Sakura threw her phone on the floor. For fuck’s sake. Trust an Uchiha to make things even more difficult. Sakura didn’t know what to do. What was all that crap about him coming for her? Should she take him up on his offer? She knew Itachi Uchiha was a dangerous man, a prominent figure in a dangerous gang. And of course, there was no guarantee that she could trust him on his word. It might make things more problematic if her anonymous benefactor found out she’d been trying to pull a fast one. Itachi was probably just setting a trap. 

Besides, she still needed money, and the amount she had been offered was significant. The last payment had been quickly swallowed by rent, bills and upkeep at the gym. No, she had to fight – she couldn’t allow Itachi Uchiha to have a hold over her. Sasuke had been bad enough. As her breathing slowed and her tears dried, she realised that since Gaara had crashed into her life, she spent a lot less time thinking about Sasuke. She wasn’t pining for her ex any more. She was getting over him. It didn’t exactly give her much consolation at that precise moment though, seeing as some anonymous asshole seemed to get off on the idea of her fighting for her life, and Itachi Uchiha had just threatened to kidnap her. She didn’t have the mental energy to get up, let alone come up with a plan. 

She was still lying on the floor when Gaara came out of the changing rooms and put his mop away.  
‘I can’t have hit you that hard, surely.’ He crouched down and offered a hand to pull her to her feet. She told him about Itachi’s phone call. It was the best thing to do. She was finding it hard to keep up with all the things and people she was worrying about, and Gaara kept telling her he was trying to protect her. He had been following Itachi and he seemed to know how Sasuke’s brother operated. 

‘Why is Itachi so interested in me, anyway? It can’t be because of his brother, surely?’ she asked.  
‘Do you have siblings, Sakura?’  
She shook her head.  
‘I do,’ Gaara continued, ‘Never underestimate sibling rivalry. Both Uchiha brothers are proud assholes, so he could be using you to get to Sasuke.’  
‘Sasuke isn’t really involved in gang shit though,’ she said, ‘He only goes to the Cave to gamble and show off.’  
‘You know him better than I do,’ Gaara said bitterly. He always seemed a bit sulky when Sasuke’s name was brought up.  
‘Are you…. jealous? We broke up months ago. He dumped me.’ Sakura’s tone was bitter too, ‘Itachi barely acknowledges Sasuke, anyway. There’s no way he’d come with a plot like this just to piss off his little brother. There’s got to be more to it than that.’

Gaara extended his legs out in front of him, his coat hanging off the back of his chair. They were sitting in Sakura’s office, two untouched cups of tea in front of them. Sakura was still feeling a bit tender after their training when Gaara had firmly beaten her ass. She could feel bruises forming and her strained muscles were protesting. Gaara was relaxing in his chair, not a scratch on him. As he stretched his arms behind his head, she could see the tattoo on his upper arm. It was definitely the number one. She thought it was a bit strange that someone who had a face tattoo only had one other small tattoo. Then again, he was in a gang so logic didn’t really apply. She wanted to ask him about both of them, but the subject seemed far too personal. Not that he would answer properly anyway. 

Gaara picked up his cup of tea and after a deep swig, continued to speak:  
‘My other idea is that it’s gang business. Itachi clearly has some kind of…disagreement with whoever’s paying you. But he also seems to have some sway over him, which me makes me think it’s another Akatsuki member. Perhaps the monolith isn’t as united as they want us to think,’ he hypothesised.  
‘If it’s all in Akatsuki’s hands why do they bother staging the fights?’ asked Sakura, ‘It’s a bit of a waste of time if they’re just betting against each other. They don’t do it just for fun, surely?’  
‘Of course they do it for fun, but they don’t control the Cave, you know. They wish they did, but it’s constantly in dispute. That’s why I show my face there from time to time – it shakes things up a bit. That’s why everyone takes the fights so seriously – and that’s another reason why you should not be going back,’ Gaara warned.  
‘Tell me about the gangs round here. It’ll help me understand,’ she asked. She half-expected him to brush off her question, but he gave her a detailed response.  
‘Okay, well you know about Akatsuki, obviously. Quite a few big Uchiha names in there, including your little fanboy. They’re the most powerful and dangerous at the moment. There’s the Mist Seven – they were problematic for a while, but quite a lot of their guys have been killed. Kisame Hoshigaki was quite high up in their ranks, but he seems to be working with Itachi for Akatsuki now. They’ve still got a few fighters at the Cave – a dangerous little character by the name of Haku – but they’re losing their turf war. The Mist is clearing, if you’ll excuse the pun.’  
Sakura nodded along, trying to memorise the information

‘Then there’s the Sound – that’s headed up by a guy called Orochimaru. Pretty nasty bastard. Likes torture and human experimentation. We know the identities of a few of their members, and none of them are pleasant,’ Gaara grimaced.  
‘Human experimentation? Is that, you know, legal? I mean, can he really do that?’ Sakura asked, her jaw dropping at the mere thought of humans being experimented on.  
‘Sakura, none of this is _legal_ ,’ Gaara laughed as if her comment was ridiculous – which, she realised soon after she’d said it, that it was. She gave him a humourless smile.  
‘And then there’s us. The good guys,’ he grinned.  
‘Do you actually believe that? That you’re the good guys?’  
‘Sometimes,’ he confessed.  
‘Good guys don’t run with gangs, Gaara. They don’t lie, they don’t carry guns and they certainly don’t stalk people.’  
‘I think we’ve got past the stalking stage, Sakura,’ he smirked.  
‘Then what are we?’  
‘I told you,’ he reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, ‘I’m protecting you.’  
Sakura froze. The feeling of his hand on her face was electric.Then he stood up, as if the conversation was over. He turned, reaching to open the door. ‘I’ve thought of another reason Itachi’s after you,’ he added, ‘Maybe he genuinely does just want to take you out to dinner. Not because of Sasuke or Akatsuki or anything – maybe he’s just infatuated.’  
‘Like you?’ Sakura teased. Gaara banged the door shut. Sakura was glad to see that she’d got under his skin with that comment.

She rested her elbows on her desk and thought back to her interactions with Itachi. He’d watched her fight, then came to her dojo to try and persuade her to join Akatsuki – at which point he had thought it pertinent to fucking bug her office. Then there’d been the times when he’d broken into her home to leave business cards in strategic places, just so she’d know that he was watching her – so that she’d realise how dangerous Akatsuki were. And now he had offered a way out of her next fight – but at what cost?

By rights, she should be terrified of Itachi, or at the very least furious with him. Was this his means of flirting? Either the man was totally unhinged or it was a ridiculous prospect, and one that didn’t deserve any further attention, Sakura decided firmly. It was gang business, through and through. He just wanted to show her how powerful he was, to test how long she would play the game before she snapped and called him back, scared enough by his tactics to work with Akatsuki.

Itachi Uchiha could fuck off, Sakura said to herself. She didn’t know what his fucking problem was and she was not impressed with his antics. She’d never have dinner with him, not even if he was the last man on Earth. And she was going to fight at the Cave and damn well _win_. No matter what. It wasn’t a question of fear anymore – it was pride.

As she fumed at her desk, she didn’t even consider that she was perhaps playing directly into their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one up for you folks. I hope everyone is staying safe and well.  
> Enjoy the story. Let me know what you think!


	7. Run

‘I’ve got to go,’ Gaara said, his face set. Sakura had followed him out to the parking lot, where he’d retrieved a few guns from the back of his car. He laid them out on her desk. Not only did he have his usual gun at his hip, he also shrugged his way into a shoulder holster into which he stuffed an additional handgun and a couple of mags. Sakura watched, eyes wide as he concealed his weapons again under his long maroon coat. The last gun, the smallest on the desk, he handed to Sakura. She held it gingerly between two fingers. It was heavier than it looked.   
‘It’s a baby Glock,’ he explained, ‘Perfect for beginners and small hands.’  
‘I don’t want this. I have absolutely no idea how to shoot,’ she protested.  
‘Well let’s hope you don’t have to, eh?’

He flung his coat around him and walked out of the office. She caught him as he strode across the gym floor and asked where he was going.   
‘I’m going to try and sort this fucking mess out. I’ll call you in a few hours. Itachi will probably come looking for you, so if I were you I’d try and get out somewhere.’  
‘Where?’ Sakura demanded.   
‘Go to the mall? I don’t know, you’ll think of something. Just don’t do anything stupid.’  
‘The mall?’ Sakura was incredulous. Was he trying to be funny?  
‘Yeah. Hide in plain sight. I don’t think you’ll find Itachi Uchiha poking round the lingerie section in H&M, will you? Why don’t you get yourself something nice while you’re at it?’  
He winked as he walked out, twirling his car keys round his fingers.

Sakura was speechless. As she watched his retreating back she wondered if Gaara legitimately had mental health problems… Some form of personality disorder? Was he bipolar? Was his constant insomnia making him unstable? No normal, sane individual would act or talk the way he did.

His comment about lingerie notwithstanding, Gaara was right, she could hardly sit around the dojo all evening; it was likely to be the first place Itachi Uchiha would try after not finding her at her home. He’d said he was coming for her, that creep.

She needed to get out. Glad she had stashed it there the day before, Sakura retrieved her overnight bag from her car and changed into some unobtrusive street clothes, pulling on a hoody to hide her distinctive pink hair. She had to figure out where to spend her evening before Gaara called her. He was probably going to invite himself over to her apartment again, her feelings on the matter be damned.

She closed up the gym a little later than usual – although thanks to her note on the door it had been completely empty. She drove aimlessly into the city centre, turning left or right at random. Her mind was elsewhere. The gun Gaara had given her felt like it was burning a hole in her purse. She didn’t want to think about him, loading up on arms and ammunition before waltzing off into the night with a spring in his step. It was almost like he enjoyed it. No, enjoyed wasn’t the right word, Sakura thought as she changed lanes. He _relished_ it. Maybe he even lived for it.

She was no stranger to the adrenaline rush of a fight. A bit of danger certainly kept her on her toes. That was why she got into MMA in the first place. But this was too much, far too much. It wasn’t natural to get so excited about the thought of illegal underground dogfights, pissing off rival gangs and constantly having a gun ready to draw. But that was how Gaara lived, Sakura realised. He’d chosen the risk and the danger. And for some reason, he’d chosen her too.

She spent the best part of half an hour to find a free parking spot and when she did, Sakura got out of her car and tried to get her bearings. She swung her bag over her shoulder before heading down the road. She was somewhere in the north side of town, she noted. It wasn’t the best of areas but there was a cheap-looking mall round there which was open so Sakura went in, trying not to think of lingerie or Itachi. She browsed a few shops before losing interest and going to a fast food place. She ordered a burger and sat by herself, wishing she had thought to bring a book or something. The mall food court was shabby too, the paint was peeling from the walls and several lights were out. Sakura was lost in her thoughts, fiddling with her paper cup.

‘Can I sit here, huh?’ a man asked, laughter in his voice. She would recognise that verbal tick anywhere. She jerked her head up to see Deidara smiling at her, holding a takeaway cup.   
‘Where have you _been_?’ she demanded, ‘I've been so worried!’  
Deidara brushed off her concern, wordlessly offering her a cigarette – which she declined. He shrugged, sparked up and blew smoke in her face. Sakura coughed pointedly. There were ‘no smoking’ signs peppered liberally on the walls of the food court.  
‘I've been crashing at my man Sasori's for a bit. It's closer to school, y’know,’ he said nonchalantly. He didn't quite meet her eyes.  
‘And you couldn't answer your phone because…?’ she asked.  
‘New number,’ he replied. His put-on casualness wasn't fooling Sakura. There was definitely something else going on. She fixed him with a hard stare, indicating that she didn't buy his tales one bit. He was different, somehow. Thinner. His face was harder, with premature frown lines coming in. And she was sure he was concealing a gun at his hip.

‘You don't believe me, do you?’ he said disappointedly, and when she shook her head: ‘Ah well, it was worth a shot, huh?’  
‘What's going on, Deidara?’ Sakura asked. He paused, sighed and ruffled his long blond hair. He averted his gaze again.  
‘…I can’t tell you,’ he replied at last. He picked at her fries without asking. ‘So how's that guy with the red hair then? Gaara of the Desert or whatever?’ he asked, changing the subject oh-so-casually.  
‘How do you know his name all of a sudden?’ Sakura asked, suddenly wary.  
‘Just do. I didn't realise who he was that night at the bar. How is he, anyway? He hasn't been acting suspiciously or anything, huh?’ Deidara said, struggling to maintain his air of casualness. He was not a very convincing liar.

‘He's always acting suspiciously. As are you, and in fact everyone else I seem to know,’ Sakura answered, ‘Why do you care anyway?’   
‘I don't, particularly. It's just that he’s nothing but trouble and the thought of you having sex with him makes me feel physically sick, that's all, huh,’ Deidara answered cheerfully, like they were discussing the weather.  
‘What the hell? Who says I’m having sex with him!’ Sakura snapped. As if she didn't get enough of this kind of crap.  
‘Oh, you _so_ clearly are!’   
‘You watch your fucking mouth,’ Sakura snarled.  
‘Geez, I'm just kidding - there's no need to get all malicious,’ Deidara dismissed her lightly, not remotely bothered by her threats, ‘You can screw whoever you want, just don't get too attached to him, that's all I'm saying.’  
Sakura narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like where Deidara was going.

‘This is even worse than when you were dating that Uchiha scumbag,’ he continued with a dramatic sigh. ‘Actually, I don't think it is. There's nobody I hate more in the world than the Uchiha family. This Gaara guy is just a minor inconvenience compared to them. Don't tell him, though. I think he prides himself on being a real spanner in the works. Don't you get caught up with all that, whatever you do.’ He exhaled a fresh burst of smoke into Sakura's face.

‘What the hell happened to you, Deidara? You vanish for weeks on end and then you show up and start talking crap? Is something wrong?’   
‘I’m fine,’ he said impatiently, ‘Anyway, I should be asking you the same thing. You look like you’ve been beaten up.’  
‘Just training. I have to get a lot stronger.’  
‘What for? You’re not going back to the Cave, are you? It’s practically suicide – last time you were damn lucky that Gaara guy has got a little crush. It won’t happen like that again, I can assure you.’   
‘What makes you so sure? What do you know about it?’  
‘Listen, it’s too late for me. I’m already up to my neck in it. But you – you could still get away. Don’t take that fight. Seriously.’   
‘I have to. Someone’s going to get hurt otherwise.’   
‘People get hurt every day, Sakura,’ he said significantly, ‘And sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it. I mean it – do not take that fight. And whatever you do, stay away from Gaara – and from Itachi fucking Uchiha.’   
Sakura sighed. They were getting nowhere with this conversation. She tried to lighten the mood.  
‘What is this, dating tips, or advice on how to not get shot?’

Surprised, Deidara’s serious face cracked into a smile. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. At his criticism of Gaara and Itachi, Sakura's mind immediately started racing but she told herself she was being paranoid. There was no way this goofy man, smoking and snaffling her fries could be a member of Akatsuki. Could he?

‘Excuse me! Hey!’ A couple of mall security guards were descending upon them, ‘Hey, no smoking in here!’ they shouted. Sakura rolled her eyes at Deidara and hastily picked up her belongings. He did the same, leaning over her to shovel a last handful of her fries into his mouth. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the exit like a naughty kid. Sighing, Sakura followed him. Trust him to cause her trouble. Now she had to find somewhere else to hang out until Gaara called her.

‘Hey, do you fancy heading to a bar or something?’ Deidara asked as they ran down the escalators, ‘You never know, there might be another shady asshole you could hook up with.’ He stifled a laugh.  
Sakura assented; it wasn't exactly like she had any plans for the evening aside from waiting for Gaara’s call. Besides, she liked Deidara's company. It was better than being alone.

As they walked to the bar, Deidara chatted idly about his life at the university and his friends. Deep down, she longed for a circle of friends, even after years of telling herself she didn't need them. Deidara came across as a typical loudmouth tough guy: not an art student. He told her a bit about the different styles he was working on, about his concept that true art was transient rather than eternal. He said that the beauty was in its passing and that a wonderful fleeting moment was better than a long hour. Surprising herself, Sakura found herself agreeing.

‘How do you make it explode?’ she asked out of curiosity.   
‘Anything’s possible if you mix it with C4,’ he said with a grin. Deidara pulled her into a back alley and extracted some clay from his pocket. His fingers working fast, he deftly moulded it. A few seconds later he held up the finished product, a simplified cherry blossom branch approximately the length of his finger. She smiled.  
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’ Deidara said, grinning broadly, ‘Now watch.’ To Sakura's surprise he tossed the miniature blossom down the alley. She followed it with her eyes as it ricocheted off a trash can. The clay exploded loudly. There was a flash of light, before trails of pink smoke drifted away with the breeze.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sakura breathed. She watched the smoke clear in the alley again and turned to Deidara, who was grinning.  
‘The pink was for you, to match your hair,’ he said, ‘My little tribute.’ When she looked again, she could see the trails of smoke were the exact same shade of pink as her hair. Sakura felt a little uneasy. Was he hitting on her?

‘Now quick, people don't tend to like it much when I start blowing things up,’ Deidara said over his shoulder as he slunk back out of the alley. Sakura followed him as he rushed round a few more blocks, before coming to a halt to catch their breath. Gaara still hadn’t called her.

The bar Deidara suggested was on the corner – its drinks cheap and its décor run-down. It looked like a real dive. While she queued for a drink, Sakura scanned the half-empty room. The floor was a little sticky, the punters a little grubby and the paint job a little scruffy. A couple of people were playing pool and some were dancing. She didn't expect to see anybody she knew and was grateful she didn't. Sasuke would probably rather die than be caught in a place like this. And Itachi would be much more likely to be spending his evening shooting people in gangland or drinking expensive whiskey somewhere. If he wasn’t out looking for her, of course.

Sakura dipped into her purse for her wallet while she was waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. Deidara, standing next to her, raised his eyebrows but said nothing. She paid for their drinks and took a sip. It wasn't until she was putting her wallet away that she realised Deidara was staring at her with a sickened look on his face. Grabbing her tightly by the upper arm, he directed her to a secluded corner of the bar, his expression grim.

‘What do you have in your purse?’ he demanded.  
Sakura decided to play it cool, ‘Um…spare change, wallet, hand sanitizer… that kind of thing,’ she answered, feigning surprise which Deidara didn't buy.  
‘I meant the fucking gun. And the Akatsuki business cards. Why do you have them?’ he hissed angrily.   
Sakura considered how to answer this. If she was going to tell him about the gang's interest in her, a bar probably wasn't the best place to do it. Besides, 'Uchiha' was a disgusting swearword in Deidara's books and was guaranteed to send him into a rage which would probably result in him trying to blow up an Uchiha mansion with some of his clay.

‘Oh, those. They're from a friend. Well, two friends, actually,’ she said casually. Deidara choked on his beer, eyes popping.  
‘Friends?’ he asked incredulously. He suddenly looked even more panicked.  
‘Yes. Is it that difficult to believe I have any?’ she grinned, her eyes filled with innocence. Deidara narrowed his eyes but nothing more was said on the subject.

‘Are you going to get back into fighting?’ Sakura asked.  
‘I don't know. Depends on how things go. It's a bit too conspicuous though,’ Deidara smirked. Although he had officially retired from pro-fighting, he had a reputation as an explosion in the ring. Sakura had watched one of his fights, where he’d absolutely decimated his opponent. Nowadays, he focussed his time on perfecting his art, which apparently meant suspiciously hanging around public buildings blowing things up. Deidara had always been one for trouble but his behaviour lately was different. Sakura wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what he was up to if he wanted to keep a low profile in the underworld.

She was still on edge, and would be until she heard from Gaara. She finished her drink quickly, leaving Deidara with half a beer to gulp down. Out in the cool night air, she breathed deeply. She rummaged through her bag for her phone, but froze, listening intently. Gunshots. About half a mile away. A few seconds pause, then more. Every time she heard a shot firing in the city the first thing that came to her mind were thoughts of Gaara. Was he out there, exchanging fire with someone? What if he got hurt?

Deidara stepped out of the bar. He stiffened and his face contorted into a frown. He looked distracted. His right hand seemed to move unconsciously to tighten over his gun.  
‘I have to go,’ he said. Behind them, the gunshots blasted on. Before Sakura had time to respond he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her round to face him.

‘You shouldn't be out; it's no place for you at the moment. Go home, get a taxi and don't go to this part of town. I'll call you in a few days,’ Deidara pressed a fifty into her hand and stepped back. He pulled his hood over his head and fixed a blank, determined look on his face.   
‘And Sakura?’ he turned to face her, ‘I’m sorry. For everything. I really am.’  
‘What are you sorry for?’  
‘Just know that I didn’t have a choice. It’s not personal, I have to fulfil my quota or things will get pretty ugly for me.’   
Then, without further explanation, he ran off in the direction of the shots, drawing out his handgun as he did.

That was odd, Sakura thought. He was apologising for something he hadn’t even done yet. She pocketed the money Deidara had given her, and reached into her bag for her phone. It wasn’t there. Panicking, she searched through all the compartments, grabbing items in vain. It wasn’t damn well there. She hadn’t taken it out at the bar, so she must have left it at the mall as they rushed to leave. It was a lost cause. It would have been stolen moments after she’d left the table.

Sakura tried to focus on her breathing, tried hard not to scream. _Fuck_. She was utterly fucked. What kind of fucking idiot left their phone at a mall food court? It was especially stupid given the situation she was in.

The gunshots got louder – closer, but Sakura ignored Deidara’s advice about the taxi and headed towards her parked car. She had to hurry. It was a twenty minute walk away and the fire-fight sounded like it was getting closer. She did not want to get caught up in any of this, she didn’t want to have to use the gun Gaara had given her, not even to defend herself.

Minutes later there were sirens. Sakura ignored them and momentarily looked up at the stars. She wanted to totally switch her mind off and process everything another time. She wanted to leave the city, leave the country and forget all about the stupid, stupid world she lived in. But she couldn't. If she couldn’t get in touch with Gaara, the best she could do was find her car and curl up in the backseat, put a blanket over her head and wait until morning.

As she ran down a side street, she saw a motorcycle speeding across the intersection ahead of her, weaving dangerously as the pillion passenger fired at a car following close behind. She heard glass breaking on impact, probably a windshield. The bike skidded sideways as the car returned fire. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, not even a hundred yards away. Breathing fast, she pressed herself against a wall, until the motorbike’s engine snarled and it pulled off. She didn’t look to see if the car resumed pursuit, she just turned and ran in the opposite direction.

She would be safer on the main road, she decided, pulling the hood of her jacket as far down as she could as she ran blindly. She had to get away. She wasn’t even heading for her car any more, she was just running, heart pumping and feet slapping on concrete as she ran against the traffic on the narrow verge. As she ran, her hood fell back, but she didn’t care. Her lungs were screaming, but she didn’t care. She just ran.

Traffic grew heavier until the cars seemed to be whooshing past in a constant stream. One of these cars, driving fast, screeched to a halt and made an illegal U-turn, earning a chorus of honks from other drivers, before pulling up next to her. It was a black Mercedes. The driver wound the electric window down.

‘Get in,’ he barked. Gaara was dressed entirely in black and had a furious expression on his usually calm face. The initial relief Sakura felt upon seeing him was quickly taken over by fright. She had seen lots of sides to Gaara's temper but this was something new entirely. She hesitated. She could see his gun resting on his lap.  
‘Sakura, get in the damn car before I get angry,’ Gaara growled. With fear rising in her chest, she quickly complied. She slid into the front seat, breathless and shaking with fear. Gaara stashed his gun once again and turned on her.

‘What the hell do you think you're doing?’ he demanded over the roar of the Mercedes engine as they shot off again. She was unable to answer, a lump caught in her throat and she was still panting from her run. She'd seen Gaara shirty but this was something new. She was scared by his anger.  
‘Can't you keep yourself safe for once Sakura? What the hell were you doing? Anything could have happened! How could you be so stupid?’ Gaara shouted, ‘You should have waited for me! You should have answered your fucking phone!’ His expression was murderous and he was driving far too fast, barely in control of the vehicle.

Although she hated it, Sakura felt hurt by his harsh words. Each shouted syllable was like a blow to her heart. She hated that she was so damn scared, that she’d run blindly, fleeing like a wounded animal. She hated that he was angry with her. She hated that she was even bothered by it, after everything. But more than anything, she hated that she still wanted him. She wanted him to comfort her. To hold her tight, stroke her hair and tell her everything was okay. But he was still yelling.

She caught her breath and did the only thing she knew how to: she retorted hotly. At least, she tried, but her voice came out meek and cracked.   
‘I was with my friend Deidara until a few minutes ago but, he uh…had to leave suddenly,’ she concluded lamely.  
‘He just left you by yourself in the middle of a fucking shootout? What an asshole!’ Gaara raged, ‘Surely you would realise what’s going on? How could you put yourself in such danger? Are you totally stupid?’

Sakura wanted to curl up in a corner. Hating herself for it more than ever, Sakura felt the hot sting of tears smarting at her eyes. Before she could stop herself, hurt tears were pouring down her face.  
‘Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?’   
‘I – I lost it,’ she sobbed.  
‘What? You fucking what?’ Gaara almost crashed the Merc. They veered into the next lane and clipped another car. He over-corrected, his fast swerves caught wheelspin before the car righted itself and sped off again, engine protesting.

Sakura clung to her seat. Sweat pricked her back and neck, her clothes clinging to her. Gaara gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white and almost translucent. He fixed his eyes on the road. The atmosphere in the car became tense, practically poisonous before Sakura felt the need to say something – anything – to defuse the situation. 

‘Gaara, I –’ she began, before he cut her off.  
‘Don't talk. I need to calm down,’ he snapped, irate. He pulled off the road and parked outside an apartment building, the car shuddering to a halt. He cut the engine and jumped out. He flung his coat over his shoulder, glancing round.   
‘Get out,’ he snarled. Before she could do it herself, Gaara snatched her door opened. His free hand grasped the gun in its holster.

Not daring to ask where they were going, Sakura followed him into the building. He dinged the elevator call button, pressing it continually for a few seconds before losing patience and barging through the door to the stairwell. They climbed to the top floor, Gaara taking the steps two at a time. Sakura tried to stop herself from crying but the tears kept coming. She hated it. Never before had she felt so weak and humiliated. Here she was, a famous professional fighter with a supposedly fearsome reputation, crying because someone had shouted at her. _Pathetic_. She was being stupid. She was once again the weak little girl who had relied on Naruto and Sasuke all those years ago. She was nothing against an established crime syndicate and now, it seemed she was nothing to Gaara, too.

When they reached the top floor, Gaara unlocked the door. She followed him in as he snapped on the lights in his penthouse apartment. The living area was sparsely decorated in cream and black with minimalist sofas. She caught her reflection in a mirror on the wall. Her pale, tear-stained face stared back at her, looking weak and forlorn.  
‘Sit,’ Gaara directed, before stalking out of the room. In any other circumstances, Sakura would have boiled over, asking who the fuck he thought he was to speak to her like a damn dog.

Instead, deflated, she sank into a sofa, feeling too frustrated to relax comfortably. Why was she so stupid? Of course going to a bar in the rough area of town was a bad idea, not to mention wandering the city streets when gunshots were in the air. Of course she shouldn’t have lost her fucking phone. She knew that. Gaara didn't have to be so harsh. She sat waiting for him to come back, too distracted to take in her surroundings. She was angry – at herself for being so weak, and at Gaara for the way he had spoken to her. Beneath the anger there was a desperate feeling of powerlessness, overwhelming her. 

Gaara returned a few minutes later to find her hunched over, staring at her toes. He sat down on the sofa beside her and placed a cup of tea on the low table in front of her.  
‘I was out of line. I'm sorry,’ he said. Sakura nodded tightly and took the tea; sipping the warm liquid made her feel better. When Gaara apologised, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders – which made her start crying again. As if he was unsure what to do, Gaara hesitantly put an arm round her shoulders. Sakura initially tensed up before she relaxed in Gaara's arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and finally stopped crying.

‘You should get some rest,’ Gaara said. Too tired to argue, Sakura allowed herself to be led through the door into the bedroom, which was decorated in a similar minimalist style to the living area. There was a large white bed in the middle and a balcony door provided a view of the city. The bed looked comfortable and inviting and Sakura longed to rest after her tiring days.

‘What about –?’ she asked, but Gaara put up a finger to silence her. He pulled out his phone.  
‘What?’ he answered coarsely. Sakura was relieved to hear that he didn’t reserve his sweet words and charming disposition for her alone. The caller was seemingly unbothered by his short tone – she heard crackling from the other end of the line, a man speaking loudly and urgently.  
Gaara hung up and ran his hand through his hair, breathing out audibly, a guttural noise of frustration. He pocketed his phone, checked his weapons and turned to Sakura.  
‘I have to go,’ he said. He pulled the scarf round his neck over his head, disguising his hair, like they did in the desert. Before he left the room, he briefly touched two fingers to Sakura’s cheek. With his mouth set into a hard line, he walked swiftly out of the apartment and into the night, coat flapping behind him.

Alone in his apartment, Sakura would normally have jumped at the opportunity to look around, but now she just wanted to sleep. To forget all about Gaara's anger and possible personality disorder, about Deidara’s weird behaviour and the dark shadow of Akatsuki looming over her. More than ever, she wanted to be with Naruto, just to see his smiling face and the easy reassurance he gave off. She slipped between the soft cotton sheets on Gaara's king-size bed and prayed sleep would come soon.

Hours later, as the sky was beginning to tinge with the first lights of dawn, Sakura awoke to the sound of a disturbance. Quickly getting her bearings, she padded to the bedroom door. Gaara was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom, his hand supporting his weight and his breathing laboured. In the half-light she could see he was hurt. His coat was ripped at the arm, the maroon fabric stained wet with blood. Bruises were beginning to form on his face. He had his gun in hand, but even as she watched, it slipped from his grasp and clattered to the bathroom floor.

‘Go to sleep, Sakura,’ he said softly, argumentative to the very last. She ran to him and was barely in time to catch him as he faltered and fell, sinking into her arms like a dead weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer one for you this time. A lot happened here, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know! :D


	8. Assignment

His loss of consciousness was momentary – Gaara started protesting as Sakura half-carried him to the sofa. He smelled of sweat and the metallic tang of blood and gunshot. His clothes were filthy, as if he’d been rolling around on dirty ground. Up close, the black circles around his eyes were even more pronounced than usual.

Although he was grubby and disheveled he wasn't in too bad shape, she realised as she peeled his clothing back. The fabric was catching on a wound on his upper arm, and Gaara winced as she removed his coat. That one needed attention - the rest would be fine after a quick wash with antiseptic.

‘Go back to sleep, Sakura. It’s the middle of the fucking night,’ Gaara said aggressively.  
‘Stop being so immature,’ Sakura replied, matching his tone, ‘What the hell happened?’  
‘I got shot, didn’t I?’ he snapped, as if it was obvious. Sakura tried not to panic – his injuries couldn’t be too severe if he was still capable of being objectionable.   
‘Well, that wasn’t very clever of you. Take off your shirt and tell me where you keep your medical supplies.’

Gaara seemed to hesitate for a moment, his stubbornness not allowing him to let go. He suddenly appeared much wearier, as if he had been holding on for too long and needed someone else to take charge. Now shirtless, he flopped back on the couch, muttering, ‘Bathroom cabinet, left side.’

Following his directions, Sakura found a large, well-equipped first aid box, and quickly got to work. There were some scrapes on his face and upper body, and there was grit embedded in his palms. He’d obviously broken his fall with his hands. The wound that needed attention was on his upper arm, but as she dabbed at it with alcohol-soaked cotton wool – Gaara swearing through clenched teeth – she saw it wasn’t as bad as it looked. There was a lot of blood, but the bullet had just grazed him. He was one lucky bastard.

She cleaned him up thoroughly, and stemmed the bleeding with pressure before securing the dressing with a bandage.   
‘All done,’ she announced a few minutes later. She ruffled his messy hair, earning a frown from Gaara as he examined her handiwork.  
‘Very neat,’ he commented, but his tone made it sound like an accusation.  
‘Well, I wanted to be a doctor,’ Sakura said defensively.  
‘Why didn't you?’  
‘Circumstances,’ she replied bluntly. Wisely, Gaara didn’t press the issue.

Sighing deeply, she stretched her arms above her head. She was tired, not only because it was late and the sky was already tinted with the first light of dawn, but because of weeks of near constant worry. All she wanted was to sleep safe.  
‘Tomorrow,’ Sakura said forcefully, with a pointed look at the gun on the coffee table in front of them, ‘Tomorrow, you owe me answers.’  
For once in his life, Gaara seemed too exhausted to contradict her.  
‘Get back to bed,’ he yawned and sank back into the sofa. Sakura wondered when the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep was. She eyed the minimalist white piece of furniture – an eye-cathing feature piece in a modern apartment. Appropriate sleeping quarters for an injured man it was not. He made to lie down, but she caught him by the shoulder.  
‘No, you do not,’ she huffed, ‘Get in your damn bed.’  
‘Only if you come with me. I think I need a cuddle,’ Gaara said, still managing to be infuriating, ‘I just got shot, after all.’  
‘Spare me, asshole,’ Sakura muttered as she followed him into his bedroom, ‘You lay one finger on me under those covers and you’ll have more than that tiny little bullet-hole to worry about.’  
Minutes after her head hit the pillow, and soothed by Gaara’s rhythmic breathing less than a foot away, Sakura fell back to sleep.

She awoke some time later to the sound of a phone ringing. Her limbs were entangled with Gaara’s, their faces inches apart. He reached for the source of the noise. Checking the caller ID, he cut the call. ‘My sister,’ he said, his voice thick with sleep, ‘I’ll call her later.’

Sakura was feeling calmer than she’d felt in days. Gaara’s presence, and his strong arms wrapped around her made her feel more secure. All of her worries – about Diedara, about Itachi Uchiha’s bizarre ministrations, even about Akatsuki – seemed less serious in the company of this attractive, stoic redhead. Certainly, she didn’t know much about him and he had many a shady dealing and a temper to boot, but she had made her decision. This was more than just physical, more than just a crush. She trusted him.

She gazed into his eyes for a moment, taking in the details of his unique face, the strands of hair flopping over his tattoo.  
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.  
‘How am I feeling? Don’t you think I should be asking you that?’ he said gently, ‘Wasn’t I the one who practically had to rescue you from a gunfight last night?’  
‘Yes, before you ran off and got yourself shot! How the hell did that happen, anyway?’  
‘Let’s just say things didn’t go to plan. I messed up.’ He gestured roughly at the bandage on his arm. ‘Akatsuki don’t play nicely. I was lucky.’

Play nicely? Like the whole thing was some kind of game. As if there were rules to be followed – unspoken or otherwise – between the different factions. It was all politics and posturing, until someone got too greedy or wrathful and stepped out of line. Sakura couldn’t explain it exactly, but she had a sudden urge to tell him the whole truth, the little that she knew of it. She began hesitantly. ‘I know they don’t play nicely. The Akatsuki – Itachi Uchiha…. He’s been breaking into my apartment. Leaving those business cards by my bed.’  
Gaara was silent for a few seconds. ‘That asshole. I thought he was mailing them to you,’ he breathed, ‘How is he getting in?’  
‘I don’t know,’ Sakura didn’t like the high-pitched, stressed sound her voice made. It sounded almost like a whine.  
‘It’s just a power play, Sakura. If he really wanted to harm you, you’d be long dead,’ Gaara assured her, ‘We’ve known about his interest for a while now.’  
‘How long is a while?’ Sakura asked, suddenly wary.  
‘A month or so,’ he confessed.  
‘A month or so? So… at the fight… when you wanted to work at my gym…’ As the realisation dawned on her the familiar nausea was back, acid at the back of her throat.  
‘Well, after Akatsuki burnt down my usual one, it seemed only fitting with my assignment that I –’  
‘Oh, God… Assignment…?’ Her blood ran cold. She drew herself away from Gaara, recoiling in horror. How could she have been so stupid? She was allowing herself to develop feelings for a man who viewed her as an _assignment_. She would never learn, it seemed. She would never see the damned, bleeding obvious. She had been stupid enough to believe he’d felt something for her. That he’d been attracted to her. So naïve, so _arrogant._

He was probably laughing at her behind her back, laughing at her little bursts of anger – and how quickly she gave in to her desire. Itachi’s tactics were deplorable but Gaara’s were worse. He was sneaky, underhand. He’d pulled it off, the bastard. He’d gained her trust. If he could get into her knickers while he was at it, clearly it was a little bonus for him. She felt sick, dirty, used. That _asshole.  
_ ‘Sakura – please!’ Gaara said firmly, ‘At the bar I had no idea who you were, I just thought you were beautiful. I acted stupidly – at the fight and everything. Then we figured out you’re an Akatsuki target and it’s up to me to save your ass. Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?’

She was staggered.  
‘Well, I don’t think I’m quite on the assassination list just yet – Itachi still hasn’t given up hope I’ll join him,’ she managed stiffly. Maybe I will, if this is my alternative, she said to herself. She’d had no interest in gang politics in the first place. All she’d wanted was to run her gym, make enough money to pay the bills and live a quiet life. Then someone, somewhere, in some damn gang, had taken an interest in her and her life had been turned upside down. And what was worse, she still didn’t even know _why_.

They were interrupted by a series of loud crashes coming from Gaara’s living room. Startled, Sakura sat bolt upright, her mind reeling with possible worst-case scenarios. She instinctively held herself closer to Gaara, who put his arm round her, his free hand reaching under the bed for a gun, aiming it at the closed bedroom door. He barely had time to release the safety when the door burst open.

Stunned silence filled the room for a second as Sakura gawked at the new arrival and he returned her incredulous stare. He was a strongly built brown-haired man, probably in his mid-twenties, who had obviously been in the wars – his face and hands were streaked with blood, dirt, and for some reason, what looked like purple face-paint. Seeing him, Gaara tossed the gun aside and brought a hand to his temple, sighing audibly.

‘Can’t you answer a goddamn phone?’ the newcomer demanded.  
‘Can’t you damn well knock?’  
‘What the fuck happened, Gaara? You can’t just bail like that. You were our lead. We went over it. Formations at 11. It was your plan in the first place. Routine shit, you said. Reconnaissance.’   
‘I was late, I know. I fucked up – and I got shot,’ Gaara gestured to his bandaged arm. This didn’t seem to placate the other guy.  
‘Because you were clearly too busy chasing skirt to get in position!’ he jerked his head towards Sakura, ‘What the hell’s going on here?’  
Sakura stiffened. She assumed she was the skirt he was referring to.

‘Sakura, this is my brother Kankuro. Kankuro, this is Sakura Haruno.’  
‘Oh bloody hell, Gaara!’ The brother turned away and slammed a closed fist against the wall. He sighed deeply – appearing to mentally count to ten. The tension mounted as Gaara stared at his brother’s back in silence. Clearly, a capricious temper was a family trait. Having apparently calmed himself enough to speak, Kankuro turned to face the room again.  
‘You’ve got a damned job to do. Don’t you forget it.’  
‘I haven’t. I don’t take orders from you. Don’t _you_ forget it,’ Gaara said thickly. They stared at each other. Sakura glanced from one to the other until Kankuro turned to face her, taking her in properly. She didn’t like the way his eyes flicked over her body.  
'If you want my opinion, darling, you’re more trouble than you’re worth.’  
‘I didn’t,’ Sakura said coldly, ‘Want your opinion, that is. I didn’t want any of this.’

She got out of the bed swiftly, thankful that she’d been too tired to fully undress the night before, sparing her the embarrassment of having to fumble for her clothes in front of Gaara’s angry brother. Still, it was bad enough he’d caught her in a sports bra. She felt exposed, something about the way Kankuro looked at her made her feel unclean. 

‘I’ll see myself out,’ she said at the door. She gathered her things and was halfway across the living room when she realised she had no phone, and her car was on the other side of town. She would look pretty damn stupid trying to run away from Akatsuki on a city bus.

Muttering to herself, Sakura sat resignedly on the white sofa, listening to the muffled argument between the two brothers in the bedroom. She overheard snippets like ‘half-naked in bed with the damned target,’ and ‘sort your priorities out, goddammit!’ and ‘Protection? I hope you fucking used it!’ The discussion didn’t seem to be going in Gaara’s favour. She thought back to the one time he’d opened up to her about his family. Never underestimate sibling rivalry, he’d said. At least some of what he’d told her had been genuine.

She fiddled with a loose thread on her hoody and looked around the room. The first aid kit she’d raided to patch Gaara up just hours ago lay next to a gun on the glass coffee table. Yesterday’s newspaper was on the other end of the table, open on a page about crime stats. To kill time, Sakura picked it up and skimmed the article. The whole city was a joke – everyone knew that gangs were behind most crimes committed within the city limits, and it looked like the newspaper was firmly on Akatsuki’s side. She wondered how many journalists Itachi Uchiha had coerced for his reputation to come out so shiny. Having read enough, she put the paper aside and cast her eyes around the open plan living room. The rent on a place like this had to be sky-high. He clearly made a lot more than he’d made out. Crime pays, eh? She remembered the first day he came into her gym, claiming he had no money to pay the membership fees. All while he wheeled around in a Mercedes. Oh, what a fool she’d been.

It was a swanky, penthouse apartment, with large windows catching the sun at just the right angle, but something about the space still felt cold and unwelcoming. The furnishings were tasteful, like they’d been picked straight from a catalogue but there was no soul or substance. The place felt sparse, as if it wasn’t really a home. Sakura held no illusions that Gaara was much of a housekeeper but his apartment felt lonely, unlived in. She wondered how long it had been since he’d moved in. It all felt temporary, like he was just passing through.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she walked the length of the living room. The floor was plain hardwood, no rugs and no art on the walls. In fact, the only thing on the wall was the smudge of dried blood where Gaara had been leaning when he came back last night injured.

The kitchen was the same. A couple of dirty dishes and mugs by the sink were the only sign of life. The appliances looked unused. There was no mail stacked on the island, nothing tacked to the fridge. Sakura opened the oven, just to check. It was spotless, as if it had never even been turned on. In the fridge, she found only a few condiments and a leftover box of takeout.

She continued her tour of the apartment. The bedroom door was still closed – the muffled shouting coming from behind it had turned into intense hissing. She longed to overhear Gaara’s argument, but she still had a few scraps of dignity left to prevent her from listening at the door. Instead, she checked out the bathroom. There was a huge power shower, clean white fixtures, a light-up mirror. This room was clearly not unused – the white porcelain of the sink was splattered with blood, and there were droplets on the tile floor.

Sakura felt an intense urge to clean the place, to rinse out the sink, scrub the floor, bleach away the smell. Wash the blood away from Gaara’s life, his sins – all the people she presumed he’d shot and killed. He had blood on his hands, of that she was sure. She turned on the tap and watched the blood streak its way down the drain, the water running clear again. Watching it rinse away was almost hypnotic.

In the cupboard under the sink, she found rubber gloves and antibacterial spray, which she used liberally. As she wiped the last traces off the floor, Sakura realised she was cleaning the bathroom for a man who thought of her as an assignment. A gang member. A man who killed people. She hadn’t even done that kind of thing for Sasuke, and he’d been her boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. When had she become so soft, such a good little woman?

She sat back on her heels and pushed her hair back from her brow. She wondered why she hadn’t stormed out of the building, spurred on by her encounter with Gaara’s obnoxious brother and the crass way he’d looked at her. Like she was a piece of meat. Like she was _nothing_ , just some dumb bitch to be leered at. She could have marched straight out of this too-big apartment, found the nearest taxi rank and never looked back.

But where would she go? Home was a no-go. Itachi had probably been staking it out, a stack of threateningly flirtatious business cards on hand. Her apartment was supposed to be her sanctuary, the one place she could feel safe but she didn’t even have that sense of security any more.

There was her gym, but was there even any point in going there? The note she’d stuck on the door yesterday – when she’d closed up after that wretched phone call – would still be there and it wasn’t as if she had a myriad of customers jostling for entry. Akatsuki would have her bundled into the back of a van before she’d even paid off her taxi fare. 

The only other person she could think of was Deidara, but without a phone to get in touch with him, it was pointless. And he’d clearly had troubles of his own of late. She cast her mind back to their conversation in the food court. ‘He’s nothing but trouble. Don’t get too attached to him,’ Deidara had said. He didn’t have a single good word to say about Gaara. What did Deidara know about him that she didn’t?

Cleaning his bathroom definitely came under the heading ‘too attached’. As did sleeping in his bed, tending to his wounds, kissing him….

Sakura sighed. Without her phone, she had no way of even knowing the time – and of course Gaara didn’t possess anything as practical as a clock. He didn’t even have a TV. His life seemed so lonely. Empty. Full of death and loss. But Sakura knew loneliness and loss. She was the girl who’d pushed everyone away, estranged from her family, dumped by Sasuke and abandoned by her best friend Naruto. She’d cared only about fighting, training, being the best. And for what? Injuries, a forced retirement, a failing gym. Prize money hadn’t exactly kept her in the lap of luxury and she’d burned through her savings to keep the dojo open – the last bastion of when she was a somebody. When she’d been a friend, a lover, a business partner and a champion. She’d been clinging to it - her stupid, shortsighted pride. And oh, how she had fallen.

What did she have now? Bruises. A bruised heart, and a bruised ego too. And debts. Debts that had forced her into the lion’s den, fighting at the Cave like a dog.

She should have taken that injury at the end of her last pro season as an omen and got out of the fighting scene – sold her stake in the gym to Naruto and gone to college, tried to make something of herself. Perhaps she would never have made it to med school but she could have trained as a nurse, had a steady income. Perhaps she would have had a nice boyfriend by now, one who treated her well and who didn’t run with gangs or mooch off his wealthy, unscrupulous family. 

But she didn’t have the luxury of any of that, Sakura realised as she snapped off her rubber gloves. Instead, she had Gaara. She tried to recall that calm feeling she’d had as she woke up, cuddled up next to him. Gaara was all she had at the moment. She had to accept that she needed him, perhaps now more than ever. If she wanted to have even a chance of staying alive, she had to stay close to him, to let him protect her. He was thorough, if nothing else.

May his goddamned assignment be a success, she thought bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it :D   
> More coming soon. This is going to be longer than I intended at first but it's turning out quite interesting. Let me know what you think!


	9. Breakfast

Sakura had just finished cleaning up the blood in Gaara’s bathroom. She was feeling conflicted. Her pride was telling her to leave instantly, to walk out of Gaara’s life – leaving him a note telling him he was fired from his bullshit, unpaid cover job at her dojo. She should be deleting his number – if she hadn’t already lost her phone. At the very least, she should be demanding an explanation as to what exactly his ‘assignment’ entailed, and if seducing her was required activity or extra-curricular. 

She should not be scrubbing his bloody bathroom. Nor waiting for him to finish arguing with his lewd and angry brother – like a good little girl, leaving the men to talk business. She was furious with herself. She had absolutely no idea what was going on and the last few weeks her life had been a nightmare. When had she lost her backbone? When had she become something that needed to be protected? 

She sat fuming on the sofa, avoiding the bloodstain – she was damned if she was going to clean that up as well – when the bedroom door opened. Kankuro came out first, with dirt, blood and purple face paint still smeared all over his features. Sakura gave him a withering glare but the man barely flinched.  
‘Trust me, I’m leaving – you can get back to your cosy little morning. I was just checking my asshole brother was still alive,’ he smirked as he crossed the living room. At the door, he kicked a black hold-all that Sakura hadn’t noticed.  
‘Tell him I dropped this off, would ya?’ he said over his shoulder, slamming the front door.

Gaara was leaning against his bedroom door. Noticing the bag, he took long strides across the room and picked it up. It looked heavy.  
‘So you’re not even going to say anything?’ Sakura said incredulously.   
‘What do you want me to say?’  
‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe an explanation about your fucking assignment?’ Sakura’s voice had taken on a high, almost manic tone. Shrill. She didn’t want to sound _shrill_. She wanted to sound imposing, self-assured and poised. She wanted him to be forced to answer her, to explain all about his stupid assignment and his stupid gang and what exactly he was doing. Gaara looked at her for a long time – his gaze met hers, and she stared him down, until eventually he looked away. Good, thought Sakura. At least the bastard had _some_ shame. Gaara steepled his fingers then cracked his knuckles, one by one. Still Sakura stared with angry green eyes. He looked like he was about to speak, then stopped himself.

‘I think,’ he said instead, ‘That we should have breakfast.’  
‘Don’t you dare avoid the question!’  
Gaara avoided the question. ‘Let me take you out. Do you want eggs or waffles?’ he continued in a tone of voice which made Sakura want to throw things at him, ‘Or perhaps a full English?’  
Sakura was practically apoplectic with rage. The absolute _nerve_ of the man. If he thought he could fob her off with fucking waffles, like she was six and he was her over-indulgent babysitter…

‘Then, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us,’ he continued, heading for the bathroom.  
‘We have?’ she asked icily.  
‘Yeah. We’ve got all that to drop off. Then training.’ He indicated the hold-all, which he’d placed at her feet. Sakura kicked it childishly. She knew she wasn’t exactly helping her cause, but it was satisfying. Upon contact with her shoe, the bag rattled, a metallic clanging.

Gaara paused at the bathroom door, ‘Did you clean up in here?’  
‘Well it wasn’t your fucking brother, was it?’ she snapped.  
‘You’re cute,’ he said devilishly, ‘I couldn’t wish for a better assignment.’ He closed the bathroom door before Sakura could really lose it. She bit her tongue. She hated her quick temper, and the fact that he knew exactly how to get her blood boiling.

Twenty minutes later, Gaara was showered and driving her in his Merc to some coffee house or other. The hold-all was in the back seat. Sakura had resisted the urge to rifle through it while he was in the shower, just in case she got her fingerprints on something she could later be arrested for. Gaara seemed in a good mood, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. The radio was playing some ridiculously upbeat rock song, and eventually, Sakura shut it off in frustration.

‘You should know,’ Gaara said, as he pulled up in front of a nondescript looking café, ‘That I chose this assignment. And that I’m going well above the parameters of duty. My brother thinks I’ve completely lost my mind, and I’m inclined to agree with him. But I chose this.’ He cut the engine and glanced around him before getting out of the car. His gun, naturally, was never far from his grasp. He nodded to her when he deemed it safe to open the door. They were in front of a strip of shops; the café nestled between a nail salon and a dry cleaners’.

The place was empty, save for two old ladies sharing magazines and a platter of cakes in the front window. Completely non-threatening, but Gaara insisted on getting a seat in the back, out of sight from the door. The café was dingy and smelled of greasy food.   
‘Doesn’t it get to you, constantly being paranoid about getting shot?’ Sakura asked him as they looked at sticky laminated menus.  
‘Oh, I’m not paranoid about getting shot – although there is a fair price on my head,’ he said airily, ‘I just don’t want you to get shot.’  
‘Because of your assignment?’ Sakura sneered. The pettiness felt good, but only for a few seconds. Gaara snorted, no humour in his laugh.

When the waitress came to take their order, she picked an item at random off the menu and ended up looking at Gaara from behind a large pile of scrambled eggs.  
‘I know you’ll think it’s in extremely poor taste to brag about being a big deal, but I could have delegated this task to one of many qualified subordinates,’ he continued. He shoved a sausage in his mouth practically whole and chewed loudly for several seconds. _God_ , thought Sakura. No table manners. The man must have been raised by wolves. 

‘Why didn’t you just send one of these lackeys, then?’ Sakura asked. She made an effort to tackle the mountain of eggs in front of her. _Mount Eggerest_ , she thought to herself and laughed at the absurdity of it all. It was a truly bizarre moment. She was stuck eating a bucket-load of rubbery eggs, in some greasy spoon café. She had a gun in her purse but no phone and she was sitting opposite not just some small-time gangbanger, as she’d always assumed, but a veritable hotshot and a real thorn in Akatsuki’s side. 

‘For personal reasons, obviously. I thought we’d been over this, Sakura. But to answer your actual question, Akatsuki seem to think that you’d be of some use to them as a bargaining chip. A hostage situation, if you will.’  
He squeezed the ketchup bottle and it made a loud squirting noise. ‘They don’t just want to throw you in the ring at the Cave for kicks. Although some may find watching you fight….entertaining.’ He looked up at her with something dangerously close to a wink.   
Sakura felt heat rising in her cheeks. She busied herself with her eggs. Despite fervourous forkfuls, the pile on her plate did not seem to be reducing.  
‘No, basically they’re hoping that seeing you in potential danger will be sufficiently…shall we say persuasive? And that’s where I come in. To protect you from that danger.’ He laid a hand over hers and squeezed it. His fingers were cool to the touch.  
Sakura snatched her hand back. ‘I’m not some fragile little thing that needs looking after constantly.’  
‘I know you’re not,’ Gaara chided, ‘But just humour me, ok? For both of our sake’s. Now, are you going to eat those eggs, or what?’  
Sakura pushed her plate towards him and he fell upon it, making short work of the pile.  
‘They’re cold,’ he complained, but that didn’t stop him shoveling them into his mouth. 

As she watched him eat, she thought of him all alone in that huge, empty apartment, with the oven that had never even been turned on. He hardly slept, he only ate sporadically and he was always armed to the teeth. Okay, he seemed to be doing alright for money. But aside from his sister (whose calls he hadn’t even answered) and his brother (who seemed in equal parts furious with him and afraid of him) he never mentioned friends or family. Everything was top secret. Gang business came first and foremost. It was a lonely and tense existence. But a man couldn’t survive on nervous energy and adrenaline alone. 

After having polished off most of her plate, as well as his own, Gaara drained his coffee and stood up, car keys jangling. He’d paid the bill before she could even protest and now stood waiting for her at the door. A hot breakfast had clearly calmed his temperament. He even almost smiled as they walked out of the café. Not just a smirk; a proper smile. It looked so out of place on his stern features. In a brief daydream, Sakura imagined those smiles being a regular fixture. In another life, they could be doing things like this. Regular stuff, dates, going out for meals and smiling in each other’s company, relaxed. Not worrying about money, or dogfights, or rival gangs. She dismissed her fantasies as she closed the door behind her. 

Ever vigilant, Gaara glanced around before stepping out from under the café’s awning. He looked left, right and up. Then paused. Sakura realised something was off. He tensed up, coiled like a spring, already drawing his sidearm. The first gunshot ricocheted off a lamppost and Gaara flung his arm out, forcing her back.  
‘Holy shit!’ she screamed. She pressed her back against the café window. The two old ladies froze with forkfuls of cake halfway to their mouths. The second gunshot embedded itself in a trashcan. They were coming from above, but whoever was attacking wasn’t the best of shots. Gaara returned fire, just two rounds. Sakura was just in time to see a body slumping down the roof of the nail salon next door. Her heart was pumping furiously in her chest. Gaara looked around again, keen eyes scouring the row of shops.  
‘It’s ok. He’s alone,’ he said eventually.  
‘Is he dead?’ she whispered, horrified.  
‘Well, either way, he won’t be taking another pop at us,’ Gaara said grimly, ‘Let’s go, then.’

So that confirmed it. He was a killer. The way he did it was so casual. Five minutes ago they’d been finishing breakfast, for fuck’s sake. He’d been _smiling_. Now he’d just shot someone, right in front of her eyes. He was stashing his gun, ready to get in the car and drive off, like it was nothing. 

Sakura’s legs were shaky as she walked the short distance to the car. Gaara opened the door for her and helped her in, but she shrugged off his arm. As she belted up, he swung himself into the car, already revving the engine. They drove for a few minutes in silence before Gaara spoke.

‘I scared you. I’m sorry.’ He squeezed her knee, then reached for her hand. His grasp was hesitant, questioning – as if he, too, was seeking reassurance. His hand was shaking, ever so slightly. Beneath the bravado, the composed, unruffled way he dealt with all that the world threw at him, there was some part of him that sought out comfort. As she stroked the back of his hand, she found she was able to give it to him.

She wondered if she’d lost her mind. Here she was, holding hands with a man who’d killed somebody in cold blood, just moments before. Had it not been for that slight tremble as he reached out his hand towards her, she might have reacted very differently. But Gaara was able to share a sliver of vulnerability with her. And then she fully understood that to him, this was much more than just an assignment.

After a few moments he took his hand back, focusing on the steering wheel as they merged onto the highway.  
‘Those bullets could very well have been for me,’ she said at last.  
‘Possible,’ he said, eyes on the road, ‘But unlikely.’  
‘Does it happen a lot?’ she asked.  
‘Every week or so. They like to keep me on my toes. They just send goons, obviously. I usually try not to hit any vital spots. But I couldn’t take that chance today.’ 

Sakura contemplated this for a while. She’d always known, deep down, that Gaara was a dangerous guy. A killer. Seeing it firsthand, she was surprised at how well she was dealing with it all. Subconsciously, she’d already prepared herself for this – and worse. She looked out the window as Gaara changed lanes, heading to the city centre.  
‘Where are we going, anyway?’ she asked. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the hold-all on the backseat.  
‘Delivery route,’ he said with a grin, ‘Today I’m your finest errand boy.’  
‘Do I even want to know what’s in the bag?’ Sakura asked. She returned his grin with a sardonic smile of her own.  
‘If you ask no questions, I’ll tell no lies.’   
‘Drugs?’  
He shook his head.  
‘Okay. Weapons, then?’  
‘Anything can be a weapon if you use it right. Information can be a weapon.’

He pulled off the road at an industrial estate and told her to wait in the car. She watched as he carried the hold-all, acting oh-so-casual, into a shop which ostensibly sold curtains and blinds. She saw him walk up to the counter and place the bag there, while an unseen individual handed him something. Cash, probably, Sakura thought, as she saw him stick a hand in his pocket. A few minutes later, he carried the bag back out of the shop, threw it in the car and drove off.

He repeated this at two more locations, each as unobtrusive as the last: a real estate agent’s and a record store. Sakura noticed that he drove a very roundabout way between the different drop points, taking lefts when it would have been quicker to take rights, and at one point, doubling back on himself. Each time, she sat in the car, while he headed in to take care of business. Each time, he was certain to check thoroughly before leaving the car, and again before leaving the building.

‘Last stop,’ Gaara said as he pulled onto a garage forecourt, ‘Come in, if you want.’   
Sakura assented, following close behind him as he walked in. There were a few cars in various states of disrepair, some on jack lifts, some missing wheels or windows. One was studded with bullet holes, all down the driver’s side. There were a couple of mechanics working, and Gaara waved at one of them – a black guy with shaggy white hair who loped over to meet them, a lazy gait.

‘Who’s this?’ he asked as he approached. He had tattoos on his arms and the kind of face that looked like a permanent frown.  
‘Sakura. She’s with me,’ Gaara explained – rather unnecessarily in Sakura’s view.  
‘Darui,’ the guy introduced himself in a bored sounding voice. Sakura forced a smile.  
‘Is B about?’ Gaara asked.  
‘Nah. Recording apparently. I don’t know.’  
Gaara shook his head, laughing, and tossed the hold-all onto a workbench.   
‘He thinks he’s some kind of rapper,’ the mechanic explained to Sakura, ‘Don’t ask. It’s dull as hell.’

Together, the two men looked through Gaara’s bag. Sakura finally got to see what was in it. Number plates. A stack of about ten license plates for cars.‘They clean?’ Darui asked.  
‘Fresh off the press.’ Gaara unloaded the goods onto Darui’s bench and handed him an envelope from his pocket.  
‘And the Merc’s ok? You want to trade it in?’ the mechanic asked, sifting through the plates. Gaara nodded. Darui brought out a plastic packet from under his workbench, which he emptied surreptitiously into the hold-all. Sakura watched as the items dropped in. She counted four cheap mobile phones, a large envelope and a couple of guns.

‘Well, tell B we dropped by,’ Gaara said, the transaction apparently over.  
‘Yeah. See ya,’ Darui waved them off, ‘Try not to get into it this week. I’m low on glass. I can’t be replacing your windshield again.’  
Gaara grinned. ‘I’ll try. I’ll just take her round the back, should I?’

He picked up his holdall, swung it over his shoulder and walked out jauntily, with dirty hands and a smear of oil on his cheek. He looked every inch a mechanic taking his break. He let himself into the front seat of the Mercedes and pulled round to the rear of the garage, where there was another parking lot. Out here old cars were parked – or more like abandoned – a few burnt out and some real wrecks slowly rusting, their tyres beyond deflated. They’d never roll again. Some even had moss and grass growing around them, in amongst heaps of rusted metal and detritus.

Behind all the mess was a clean little lot beneath a roller door, which opened automatically as they approached. Gaara parked the Merc at the end of a row of about six or seven shiny, new cars. Good quality models, too.  
‘I knew it!’ Sakura said triumphantly, ‘You _do_ have a fleet of them. All that time you insisted you had just the one car.’  
‘It was the same car. Different plates,’ Gaara said. He picked up the hair elastic she’d dropped a few days ago, her little test. Obviously, he’d seen through it. She snatched it back, flushing slightly.   
‘Anyway, we need to get this one off the road for a while. It’s starting to get recognised – the little incident at the café proved that.’   
He got out the car and retrieved his bag, then walked up and down the row of cars, appraising each one.  
‘You pick, if you like.’

This was surreal. Sakura’s own car was a beat up, cheap model almost fifteen years old with problems that would make even an experienced mechanic wince. And now she was being asked to choose Gaara a replacement for his Mercedes. She took her time, running a hand across the bodywork of a real, live Porsche 911. It was tempting. But a car like that was conspicuous as hell, a status symbol rather than a mode of transport. She thought back to the car she’d seen on the forecourt, peppered with bullet holes and instead settled on a neat and unremarkable little Audi, slapping the bumper a couple of times.  
‘Damn. I really wanted to take that Porsche for a spin. Just the once,’ Gaara said as he got in the car Sakura had chosen. It wasn’t as flashy as the Merc but it was a perfectly decent car, serviceable but not ostentatious. Much less likely to get shot at.

‘So who’s B, then?’ Sakura asked when they were back on the road.  
‘One of my associates. Darui’s his right hand man,’ Gaara explained, hitting the turn signal. Sakura laughed.  
‘What’s so funny?’  
‘I don’t know. It _is_ funny. A gangster and a rapper,’ she chuckled and looked out the window, ‘Hey, can I have one of those phones, by the way.’  
‘I’m afraid not. They’re pre-paid, for special operations only. No trace,’ he replied, ‘We can stop off and get you one, though. You never did tell me how you lost yours.’  
‘I left it in the mall food court in the north end of town.’   
‘Well that wasn’t very clever of you, was it?’ He threw her words from the night before back at her. It was an odd thing to have done, losing it. Sakura was well-organised and careful with her belongings – being broke had taught her that. She chalked it up to the distraction that was Deidara: all the crap he’d been talking then getting them kicked out of the mall for smoking. What a liability. 

Around thirty minutes later, Gaara stood behind her in the phone shop, while Sakura searched for the best deal. She didn’t need anything too complex – just calls, texts, e-mails and a basic camera.  
‘What about this one?’ Gaara held up the display copy of a fancy model, all bells and whistles, the latest tech.  
‘Nah. Not with my budget. Put it back.’  
‘I’ll get it, then.’  
‘I don’t want you to _buy_ me things, Gaara,’ she hissed, ‘Especially not considering I know where your money comes from.’  
‘Do you?’ he asked lightly as she grabbed the nearest phone and rushed to the checkout. She was in such a hurry to leave that it wasn’t until she was back in the car that she realised the phone she’d bought was bubblegum pink. Great. Gaara teased her about it matching her hair.

‘So, any more dodgy drop-offs?’ she asked as she got her new phone set up, downloading her account. She was glad she had everything backed up on the Cloud. ‘What were we even doing, anyway?’  
‘Regular stuff. I bought and sold some assets, delivered some goods, checked our cover wasn’t blown, collected intel and spread a little disinformation…’  
‘An honest day’s work, right?’  
‘Clearly, you disapprove,’ he replied mildly.

Sakura didn’t reply. Of course she disapproved. Anyone who wasn’t a career criminal would disapprove. She couldn’t sit there and agree that she was happily along for the ride while he handed out fake number plates, guns and whatever else. But she didn’t want to start another argument – the constant bickering was wearing her out even more than the sleepless nights. Besides, despite the obvious, Gaara had been _nice_ today. Cheerful. Pleasant to be around, sort of.

‘Where now?’ she asked as they sat in front of the phone shop, ‘My gym? I have to open up at some point today. And I need to get my car.’  
Gaara nodded. She told him where she’d parked, and just as he started the engine, Sakura had an idea. She should have thought of it before. Using her new phone, she entered the Find my Phone app. Her lost phone was, of course, synched with her account and it should show up where it was – if it was still on. 

The geolocation told her that it was at home. In her apartment. She refreshed the app, just in case the data synch was old – but no. It was at home, last active a few hours ago. Impossible. The app must have glitched. She hadn’t been in her apartment for over twenty-four hours.

Then it dawned on her. Sakura felt her blood boiling again. Fucking _Deidara_. He must have pocketed it – somewhere between bumping into her at the food court and leaving her outside the bar. That sly, rotten bastard. Why the fuck would he steal her phone? He was supposed to be her friend, for god’s sake. What the hell was he playing at? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you. Did you enjoy? What did you think? 
> 
> Hope you are all staying healthy. :D

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. I'm just getting back into fanfics after a while of not writing at all, so please let me know what you think.


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